


Far from the Shallow

by caleprwrite



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Captain America Reverse Big Bang 2019, Captain America Steve Rogers, F/M, Love Triangles, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship, Top Steve Rogers, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, pavlovian responses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 20:10:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 22,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19302964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caleprwrite/pseuds/caleprwrite
Summary: Bucky Barnes is doing his best to stay under the radar, regain his memories, and make some kind of sense out of the new world he finds himself in. He's settled in Romania, but his life is flipped on it's end by a beautiful little blonde named Ihrin. She's loving, does what she believes is right no matter the cost, and goes after what she wants. But then Steve and Sam find him in Romania and things go from complicated to downright surreal.Basically, Bucky is so fucked.Fic and title inspired by the beautiful art by LiquidLightz, as well as lyrics from Shallow by Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper.





	1. Collaboration Banner

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LiquidLightz](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=LiquidLightz).



> This work was inspired by the lovely artwork by LiquidLightz, which is embedded and can also be found here https://www.flickr.com/photos/182115046@N05/48101054796. She served as a tireless Beta Extraordinaire and sounding board. Development of Ihrin's character couldn't have happened without her, and I'm very grateful! I really hope you like how the fic turned out, love! Additionally, many thanks to Golden_Cookie for her Beta and for listening to all my self-doubting and loving me anyway. 
> 
> Cap Fandom Twitter is absolutely the best support group any gal could ask for. Y'all are amazing, you know who you are and this would be an impossible task without your hearts.

[](https://imgur.com/SEOTRYl)


	2. Collaboration Banner

**Who the Hell is Bucky?**

Early in Bucky’s recovery, when he wasn’t quite himself, no longer the Asset, his memories came in fragments. These fragments were sometimes pieces from opposite puzzles, difficult for him to piece together or even tell what was real. Sometimes in his dreams, they still hit him in pieces and mislead him on the best of days. He’s come far but would always remember the confusion as he grappled to sort the pieces after decimating the man from the bridge, the man on the helicarriers, of hurting _Steve._

It had been like an out-of-body experience when Steve fell into the water. At the time, the Asset didn’t know why he acted or even what to do next, he just knew he had to save him. Steve had claimed to be his friend and the Asset needed to retrieve him from the chilly waters of the Potomac, it was the only thing that made sense in that fractured mind.

That day brought about a crucial change for the Asset. After that initial flashback from those six simple words uttered by Steve, he’d never been the same.

**To the end of the line.**

The Asset had failed the mission, the man had failed his friend. For the Asset, failure was never an option; it wasn’t permissible. He knew the handlers would punish him severely if he returned.

If.

And wasn’t that something? Suddenly there were pieces of a person.  

James Buchanan Barnes, Steve had said.

A man with fragmented memories from another life, another time. With those memories, came searing, painful emotions; they took the air from his lungs and froze the blood in his veins. At first, it was as if Bucky hadn’t known pieces of the man before, but with as strong and real as the memories were, that had to be impossible.

His brain stuttered - feelings were things the Asset didn’t have, couldn’t understand. They weren’t vital to missions, so they weren’t given any thought. Yet they were there, deep and horrific and more real than anything he could touch. There was the guilt from the things he had done, the amount of blood on his hands. There was too much heartache, he couldn’t breathe.

Physical pain was familiar, so familiar it was practically the only thing the Asset _did know,_ but the pain he experienced was altogether different. It twisted in his gut, made his hands shake and caused a clammy sweat to break out across his brow and at the back of his neck.

Chilled fingers of anxiety wrapped around his chest and he felt the crawl of them up his spine. They choked him, the weight crushing down on his shoulders, threatening to shatter his bones under it’s force. But most of all, as he silently watched him fall, there had been a fierce need to protect Steve. He dove in after him and swam until his metal hand grabbed that leather harness, pulling him up into the air, dragging him up onto the muddy banks of the Potomac.

The Asset wasn’t allowed touch. The Asset was fed pain, it meticulously inflicted torture, expertly eliminated targets. Effective, efficient, cold and exact. That wasn’t touch. But this desire to touch, he realized, wasn’t the Asset. He wasn’t the Asset, rather he was actually this James Buchanan Barnes person, this Bucky.

From the moment the Asset walked away from Steve lying unconscious on the river bank, the Asset ceased to exist. He was Bucky, and Bucky, well he had nowhere to go. But then again, that wasn’t new either. He’d been trained to disappear, to become a ghost.

He vanished in plain sight, become just another face on the street, another poor, homeless, invisible man in need on the streets of D.C. Something about wrapping himself in old clothing, about avoiding eye contact with others, moving along in silence, eyes down... it was familiar. He’d fallen into step with the tactic, the method settling easily into his bones.

As the days spent on the streets of the city blended together, shards of memories came more frequently. Things started to make sense, and he knew more confidently that the man on the bridge, Steve, was as much a part of his old life as breathing, as the very air in his lungs. Bucky wanted to go to Steve, to explain what he himself didn’t even understand, to apologize for all he’d done. He wanted to but couldn’t, the shame too great. How could Bucky ever face Steve again?

So he continued to hide in plain sight. He slept in alleys and in empty buildings. He stole and ate what the markets discarded just to survive. The hunger pains sharped in his gut, his appetite multiplying exponentially every day he spent out of cryofreeze.

**~*~**

_“It’s easy… nobody notices the poor,” Steve said._

_They were together, just like in nearly every other flash of memory, but the world around them seemed to be from another time. Gunfire and mortar rounds exploding in the distance continued on around them, but none of the men in their midst seemed fazed by the sounds. Steve shrugged on an old blanket and wrapped himself up against the bitter cold, covering the bright white star emblazoned on his chest._

_It was a stupid design, considering they needed to be covert, but that in and of itself seemed so very Steve anyway. He always stuck out like a sore thumb. Whether it was a loud-mouthed runt of an Irish kid in 1920’s Brooklyn or a muscle-bound super soldier with a righteous streak a mile wide, Steve always had a knack for sticking out. And for picking fights. There was an amused glint in Steve’s bright blue eyes and a knowing smirk on his lips._

_Bucky remembered enough to know that look never ended well for him. Steve was going to do something stupid._

_“Just like when we was kids, hey Buck?”_

**~*~**

Bucky blinked his eyes open blearily, the cold autumn wind on the streets of D.C. wracking shivers through his frame. Things didn’t make sense, there were too many pieces of his memories that didn’t make sense, didn’t fit with the current world around him. He knew he’d been kept by HYDRA for decades, taken out of cryofreeze whenever their vendetta for world domination included mass murder or high level infiltration, but he couldn’t understand how Steve had lived so long, too, when he’d hardly aged a day.

Bucky knew they grew up together. He knew Captain America was created in the midst of The War, yet there Steve was, young and strong and virile as ever in the 21st century. For a moment, Bucky considered - thought maybe someone froze Steve too.

No.

Steve wouldn’t let anyone do that. He was stronger than Bucky, always had been, strong enough to resist HYDRA if he was captured. Steve wouldn’t have broken like he did.


	3. The Smithsonian

**The Smithsonian**

A hoodie, an old coat and a black ball cap pulled low over his pale, empty eyes were all Bucky needed to easily get into the Captain America Exhibit at the Smithsonian. He knew there would be something about Steve there, but he never expected to find an enormous memorial dedicated to Bucky Barnes. He stood silently, eyes taking in the narrative of a life that seemed to belong to someone else entirely, he realized that there was a whole lot more to the story than he had ever imagined. 

The oldest child of four, it said, James Buchanan Barnes had been an excellent athlete who excelled in the classroom. He’d even been a junior olympic boxing champion. No wonder Zola had chosen him. Intelligent and athletic, the perfect combination for his line of… work. 

Bucky continued to read the memorial, “Barnes and the rest of the 107th were shipped to the Italian front. He was later captured by Hydra troops and endured long periods of isolation, deprivation and torture, only to be rescued by his childhood friend, Steve Rogers, Captain America himself.” 

Steve?

Captain America. 

His mind stuttered to a confused halt. The Asset’s mission in 2014 was Captain America. But Steve was Captain America, he had rescued Bucky and the rest of the 107th from Hydra in 1943. It didn’t make any fucking sense. There were too many tenses, decades, centuries, versions of time and people. They bled together in his mind. 

It was confused. 

No, not it. He. 

James Buchanan Barnes. 

Bucky.

He wasn’t the Asset. He was Bucky Barnes. Steve’s friend. An American Soldier, and a war hero with an entire goddamned Smithsonian exhibit, apparently. He couldn’t lay low in D.C. in fact, he was surprised nobody had recognized him, exceptional reconnaissance skills or not. 

He needed to get the fuck out of the country.   


	4. Fuck Boiled Food

**Fuck Boiled Food**

As far as Bucky knew, the Asset had never operated in Romania. Romanian was a language the handlers had never used on the Asset, and so that’s where Bucky had gone when he decided he needed to lay low, to heal and piece together whatever fragments of memory he could get a grip on. He could be invisible again, he was good at that. There was no reason for anyone to look for him there. The little European country was still struggling to recover from decades of political unrest, and it was full of diverse cultures and languages; it provided a perfect anonymous backdrop for an ex-assassin hell-bent to disappear. 

A few months in to his hiding, Bucky’s appetite had driven him to a restaurant. He stumbled his way through an enormous order of food, the knockoff super soldier serum Hydra had injected him with over the decades pulsed through his veins, and his body burned through calories at a ridiculous rate. He still hadn’t figured out how to cook anything other than oatmeal, steamed rice and boiled chicken, but if he had to eat that one more time, he’d vomit. 

Again. 

Fuck boiled food. 

All Bucky knew how to do in the kitchen after growing up during the great depression was to boil food. Even when he and Steve had enough money to get something good to eat, Steve was always the one who cooked. Then came the war, MREs and canned beans; he didn’t know what he necessarily liked, but he knew he goddamned hated canned beans. 

Bucky had merely existed in Romania for months on end, working hard learning to be a person, and figure out the mess in his mind. He did best to accept both memories and nightmares as they came as a package, a symbiotic gift and horror. He wrote down everything he could in a journal, scribbling frantically, before the memory escaped him, and functioned without much interaction above the superficial pleasantries required to blend in. That all seemed to work well - at least, it did until a young woman with soft brown eyes and a playful grin caught his eye. 

In retrospect, he was so incredibly grateful that sweet little blonde had picked up an extra shift. The day they met, it was just the two of them in the restaurant, besides the cook tucked away in the back, and he noticed she was there almost each time he came back. She laughed easily with him, and seemed amused by his appetite for everything high in protein, high in calories, and full of flavor. 

 

The sweet little blonde was named Ihrin, and quickly became Bucky’s lifeline to the next stage of his healing. He needed to function as a human, and Ihrin’s friendship came effortlessly. After they’d gotten to know each other, Ihrin once said she recognized a starved man when she saw one. 

She was well traveled herself, so it was also easy for her to spot a man who was new to her native language. It was in the way he spoke, the sound of his accent sat halfway between American with a sharp edge of Russian at the root of his odd pronunciations. 

And fuck if she didn’t hit the proverbial nail on the head with that one. What neither of them expected back then, however, was to develop a bond as deep as they had. There was an energy about Ihrin, joyful and open - an acceptance that drew Bucky in like a moth to a flame. Lingering conversations turned into early springtime walks through the many gardens found within Bucharest. The air still crisp enough for his long sleeves not to look odd, but her gaze had dropped to his gloved hand a time or two. She hadn’t reacted, hadn’t asked about it at all, and that lulled Bucky into a sense of comfort and security.

Ihrin had a knack for always feeding Bucky well, and he imagined that the saying about the way to a man’s heart came from somewhere, after all. Even so, there were still days he refused to go outside, days he hid in his small apartment. He spent those days in a ball, crumpled and trembling in a corner or under his sheets. Those days, he cried silently or screamed into the void (and a pillow), desperate for help against the grip of tortured memories. Memories of people he’d lost, and worse, those who had been taken by his hands. 

He spun out of control those days, pieces of himself flying apart, the only thing keeping him in place was the skin stretched too tight over his bones. He needed… he didn’t know what he needed. There was something just out of his reach, and it was the only thing that could bring him peace, bring him back to himself. He couldn’t remember what it was or how to get it back. It was like all of the pieces he’d collected began slipping apart, sliding farther away from where they belonged, and like a helpless bystander watching a plane plummeting toward the earth, he felt out of control, losing his grip on reality. 

When he sank to those depths, he refused to answer the door, even though he knew it was only Ihrin. He couldn’t bear to let her see him like that. He’d already destroyed the only person left on earth who once loved him, and if he was ever going to be a man again, be worth anything, he couldn’t take a chance on failing her, too. And that was exactly what it was, failure. A complete loss of something precious and perfect that he would never get back.

**~*~**

Ihrin knocked once, then again when she got no response. “Bucky!  _ Nu înțeleg,” _ she demanded, frustration bleeding into her tone. 

She had come over without an answer too many times, knowing he was home, and her concern had progressed into actual fear for his well being. She hated those times when he shut her out, so she knocked again. The usually sunny lilt to her voice was stronger, more stubborn, and her Romanian grew harsher as she continued to call out to him. 

Bucky watched Ihrin through the peephole, and as she switched from her native tongue, the raw emotion was written plain as day on her beautiful face.

“Please don’t shut me out like this. That’s not what friends do.”

There was a tightness, a pain in his chest when she said it, that thing about what friends do. He remembered saying those exact words to a pissy little blond who tried to shut him out after Sarah Rogers died.

Wait. Sarah Rogers. 

Did he just have another piece of the puzzle? 

He remembered her, remembered her passing from Tuberculosis, and what happened right after she passed away. He wanted to let Ihrin in, but he also needed to write it down before the information found another hole in his brain and seeped out. 

Rather than continue to argue with himself about not being good enough, or deserving enough of a friend like Ihrin, he cracked the door open and turned, rushing to grab his journal off the top of the icebox. It was then, when he had his nose stuck in the journal scribbling down Sarah’s name, that he heard Ihrin enter the apartment and shut the door. 

_ “Nu v-am mai văzut de mult,”  _ she said quietly as she looked at the state of the rooms. 

The windows, where the curtains were usually pushed open during the day, were covered with old newspapers. Furniture was moved in what appeared to be a haphazard pattern, and there was no radio or television on. It wasn’t like Bucky to sit in silence, music practically bled out of the man, even if only low in volume and relegated to the background.

Ihrin moved closer to Bucky, who still hadn’t replied. He stood in the middle of the kitchen and wrote frantically in one of his many journals, and Ihrin knew he must have found another memory, another piece of his puzzle. She stood awkwardly in the middle of the small space, not sure where to sit or if she even should since there were no chairs at the table, and the mattress was moved near the door, where previously the table and chairs had been. Nothing about the space made sense.

The seconds ticked on heavily, feeling like minutes, hours, and  Ihrin cleared her throat. Bucky looked up to put the book aside. He met her eyes, his own excited, but the excitement was short-lived. A darkness returned, his brow furrowed as his eyes darted away, then back hesitantly. Bucky didn’t answer Ihrin’s question, instead he shifted nervously and bit down on his bottom lip like he always did when he wasn’t sure what to say. 

_ “Ești bine?” _ Ihrin asked. 

Her voice trembled in concern as he refused to meet her eyes again for a beat too long, but Ihrin could be as stubborn as a mule, too. Her friendship with Bucky was important, she wanted to fight for it but she wasn’t sure exactly what else to say since her Romanian wasn’t effective that day. 

Usually it did the trick on his bad days. She considered being even more stubborn, standing there expectantly until he was forced to either reply or show her the door, but instead she plowed forward, blurting out what she’d known but what they hadn’t actually gotten a chance to discuss.

“I know who you are… or who you’ve been. You don’t have to hide it from me.”

Bucky froze. 

His eyes darted behind Ihrin to the door, and he instinctively shoved past her to fasten the deadbolt and chain. He rested his metal hand against the wood and listened carefully for sounds of anyone on the other side. Any moment now, it could all be over. 

In the blink of an eye, he would have to be on the run again, but this time there would be someone left behind. Someone who was vulnerable, who would be either taken into custody or tortured, depending on who it was that followed her. But he couldn’t just run this time; he refused to leave Ihrin behind like that to fend for herself. 

Steve was different, he reasoned weakly, the guilt and shame rising up in his gut like it did every time he remembered walking away from Steve on the banks of the Potomac. But Steve was a super soldier with a serum even better than the one forced into Bucky veins by Hydra. He knew Steve would heal, that he’d be safe. Steve had friends, a team. He would survive because even when he was tiny and sickly he was a fighter.

But not Ihrin. 

She was an innocent bystander, so he had to stay and fight. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt her, their friendship was too precious to Bucky. She didn’t deserve to get caught up in the hell that would surely follow in his wake, just for being a good person to a monster like him.

“Who else knows?” he demanded, tone icy.

Ihrin’s face fell and it showed him just how taken aback she was by his response. He’d never spoken to her so harshly. The next moment seemed to pass in slow motion as he watched her expression change from hurt to anger.

“What do you mean, ‘who else’?” Ihrin accused, biting back. She crossed her arms across her chest stubbornly and kicked out a hip. “Do you think I would tell just anyone?” 

Bucky’s face darkened in frustration and he paced the small space. He stopped, blew out a breath, and slumped his shoulders as he visibly deflated in front of her. He walked closer, taking her smaller frame in his hands as his thumbs softly caressed her shoulders. Being responsible for that look on her face made him feel about an inch tall.

“Look, I should never have let you get mixed up in all this,” he admitted and waved his hand absently at the space around them. “M’sorry, I just don’t want you to get hurt, honey.” 

“Let me?” she shot back, her delicate brow furrowed with a righteous anger. 

“Yeah, let you.” Bucky retorted on instinct, jaw set stubbornly. 

The way Ihrin looked at him, the determination in the set of her frame and clench of her fists as he argued back brought about so many emotions. He wasn’t sure why his body was reacting so strongly to her reading him the riot act, but there he was, flushed and dizzy and half hard already. What the fuck?

Ihrin took a breath and steeled her resolve. There were times in their friendship where she and Bucky went at it like an old married couple, but she had to remind herself that she wasn’t there to argue. A pissing contest wouldn’t help either of them, so she sighed, doing her best to soften her tone as she stepped closer. 

“There’s nobody here to hurt me, Bucky.”

He shook his head and ran his hands back through his hair, an expression of confusion on his face. He stopped abruptly when he noticed the way his left hand was uncovered, but Ihrin didn’t even seem to care, and he stared at it bleakly as he answered her. 

“If you know who I am, you know that’s not true. I’m not-”

_ “-a înceta!”  _ she shouted and moved further into his space.

Ihrin reached up and took Bucky’s jaw in her hands, only to have him freeze for a moment, hsi pulse racing in his veins. He caught his breath then gently move her away, head spinning again. 

Ihrin continued, “You’re not a bad person.”  

He turned as more heat rose in his cheeks, a strange mix of anxiety and desire twisting in his chest. He was ashamed of his past, ashamed that she knew about it, and that she had to figure it out for herself over the time they spent together. It was as though he’d lied to her. 

And he had, kind of.

“You’re not getting rid of me so easy,” she murmured, coming up behind him and pressing the front of her body against his warm, solid back. 

Ihrin hugged Bucky from behind and wrapped her arms around his strong center, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades. She rested her forehead there, then moved gently, sliding one hand up his arm. When she squeezed his bicep and tugged at him, he turned reluctantly. 

“Hey… C’mon, look at me, okay?”

When he turned back, he saw that same unconditional acceptance and goodness that drew him to her when they first met. The little grin on her lips showed how sweet she was but the spark in her dark brown eyes warned of the fire in her soul. That fire was what kept her from letting anyone tell her what to do with her life, and apparently he wasn’t above the law. 

God, she was so good, far too good for someone like him. She was full of love and she gave it to him freely, fierce and determined, not to mention absolutely breathtaking. How did he ever deserve her friendship? She stepped closer, wrapped her arms around him from the front this time, and the close proximity of her soft body stirred a familiar want and need in his gut. 

He honestly couldn’t remember for sure the last time anyone other than Ihrin had touched him without the purpose to inflict pain. Ihrin had always been a tactile person with him, but there was still an invisible line between them that hadn’t been crossed. The attraction he’d been ignoring for far too long nearly overpowered him. Bucky wanted so desperately to touch Ihrin like a lover, to have her touch him that way in return, but he didn't dare. He was desperate for it, but knew he didn’t deserve her.

Ihrin felt it too, the tension and electricity between them, beckoning them to be more than friends. It had been months since she figured him out, months that she had been waiting for him to heal, to be ready to take the next step. But she was done waiting because now that she had said it out loud, what she feared most was happening. He was going to leave. 

It was her own fault, really, for speaking that knowledge into existence, but she wasn’t ready to give up without a fight. She had to know if he felt the same, and even if he did leave, she wanted what she wanted. She could be brash, at times, not always thinking things through, and in no time, her hands were back on his jaw, pulling him down as their lips met in a bruising kiss. 

It was uncoordinated, their lips smashing against each other as Bucky bent to wrap Ihrin up in his arms. She kept control of the kiss, and he moaned into her mouth, hot and desperate, so desperate for physical contact. Keeping her in his arms, he walked them back toward his bed, dropping to his knees on the mattress and caging her in underneath his large frame. Her legs opened for him and he settled between them, falling into her space like he’d always belonged there.

“Bucky,” Ihrin begged as his lips moved to the column of her throat, pressing hot, open mouth kisses against everything he could reach.

In his insistence, he nipped at her skin as his hands pawed impatiently at the buttons of her dress, popping a few off in his haste. She wasn’t much more careful, breathing his name hotly against his mouth as she yanked his belt and fly open, reaching in to palm the hot, velvet smooth skin of his hardening cock.

“Are you sure-” he tried to ask but was cut off when all the air left his lungs as her small hand wrapped firmly around his length. 

Bucky fucked into Ihrin’s fist and they kissed again, deep, rough. He pushed her dress up higher and reached into her underwear, making her whimper when he teased at her entrance. She reached back with her other hand and yanked at the hem of his shirt, pulling it up his back and holding onto the thick muscle there as he moved above her. 

“Bucky!” she called his name again, tone demanding this time as she dragged her nails up his spine from the small of his back. 

The feeling of having her beneath him was overpowering, filling his body with want, with need, every last bit of hesitation gone. He breathed in the sweet scent of her perfume, nosing at the column of her throat and tasting her skin as he kissed her, greedily sucking against it. It was like being drunk on lust and he wrapped his metal hand in the fabric of her underwear, tearing the cloth away from her body and discarding it absently in the tangled sheets. Their eyes met, and Ihrin nodded. The way she held onto him didn’t just give Bucky the permission he needed to keep going, but insisted he do so.

_ “Te rog, The doresc,” _ Ihrin demanded. 

She wasted no time, reaching between them and guiding his erection, rolling her hips up against him. When he thrust into her deeply, all at once, Ihrin cried out in pleasure, her moan sounding like it had been punched right out of her. 

“Jesus, Ihrin,” he growled into her mouth as he fucked her hard, fast. 

One hand tangled in her long blonde hair so he could hold her for a kiss, the other held her hip in a bruising grip. In their haste, they moved together with little finesse, both of them simply chasing the finish line. Desperate sounds echoed in the otherwise silent room, demanding little noises from Ihrin mixed with deep grunts from Bucky as they fucked. Neither said much, each of them consumed by the primal need to touch, to fill the want that had gone unspoken between them for far too long. 

The tight heat of Ihrin’s body wrapped around Bucky’s cock was dizzying, and the desperate noises she made as her small hands roamed up his sides, squeezing his flesh, her nails digging into the skin there and lighting a fire in his gut, flames licking in the wake of her fingers. Desperation overtook them both. 

Ihrin tugged hard at Bucky’s hair when he changed the angle, the change in sensation making her tighten around him. He wasn’t expecting it, the way it affected him. Being so out of practice, it pushed him right over the edge and he came, fucking into her even harder, pulsing hot come deep into her body. He shuddered, breathing a groan out against her neck as his cock spasmed with aftershocks, his hips lazily rolling against her deeper a few times, before catching his breath enough to pull out and roll over onto his back. 

When Bucky opened his eyes, he stared at the ceiling, his chest heaving and brain buzzing from the first actual orgasm he’d had in longer than he could remember. He closed his eyes again and pressed the heels of his hands into them, trying desperately to get his wits about him as his body continued to thrum, heart pounding in his chest, still needing  _ something  _ but not sure what. God, he’d gone so long without the physical touch of a lover, he’d forgotten everything but the basic, primal instincts to fuck and come.

It was then that he realized neither of them had said a word; they hadn’t even touched since he unceremoniously rolled off of her. Jesus, what had he done?

Sounds of their labored breathing echoed in the apartment, each of them slowly returning to normal. Bucky heard the soft rustle of fabric as Ihrin sat up and tried to right what remained of her dress. He was afraid to look at her, honestly he was afraid to see disappointment in her eyes because he certainly hadn’t given much attention to her pleasure. Even though she consented, he still couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d completely taken advantage of her, or at best, used her. There was still something missing.

He rose quietly, pulling his jeans back up and mumbling something about just being a minute as he disappeared into the bathroom to gather himself. Is this really what he wanted? 

There was a part of him he was yet to understand that needed more. More of what, he didn’t know, but he needed to figure out how to begin the monumental apology he now owed Ihrin. Without a clue as to where to begin, he splashed his face with water, staring at himself in the mirror as droplets slid down his neck. Haunted gray eyes stared back, looking out at him disdainfully, full of shame.  

Taking a deep breath and drying his face in the towel, he told himself there was no better time than the present. No better apology than the god’s honest truth. She deserved nothing less. So, after stalling by practicing his speech until he knew it by heart, he opened the door and turned back to the main space of the apartment. 

Fuck. 

It was empty.

The only trace of her was the ripped fabric of her underwear mixed in with the rumpled bed sheets. And if that didn’t speak volumes about what he’d done, nothing did. Nausea twisted in his gut as his eyes scanned the small space. They landed on his journal, resting on the kitchen counter, a page held open with a pen lying over a short message written there, the pretty penmanship he knew to be unique to Ihrin. 

 

_ Bucky, _

_ It breaks my heart to know this is goodbye. I want you to stay, but I know better - I saw it in your eyes the moment I told you I knew. I wish things with us worked out differently, but you must know that I treasure every moment with you.  _

_ I have no regrets, and I hope you don’t either. You mean the world to me, and you will always have a home in my heart. _

_ -Ihrin _

 

Jesus, what a mess he’d made. He wanted more with Ihrin, but fear kept him from taking the chance of asking for it. He didn’t want to put her in danger, didn’t want to end up being the cause of her getting hurt, yet he’d hurt her anyway. All because he was selfish. And she’d given him… well, a lot, had let him take from her what he needed. He couldn’t blame her for leaving, though. She couldn’t really want someone like him. There was no future in it. 

But that was all bullshit, and he knew it. She had accepted him, accepted the man he was and all of his broken, messy, pieces. He simply couldn’t wrap his mind around how she managed to take him as he was, but one thing was for sure, he needed to stop being a goddamn coward.


	5. Facing the Music

**Facing the Music**

Later that night, after showering and eating, Bucky walked over to Ihrin’s cheerful little brick house. He’d put it off long enough, and couldn’t in good faith wait a moment longer. He knocked lightly against bright blue paint of her front door, the music they both liked and danced to before could be heard faintly from inside. When the door opened, her soft brown eyes peered up at him curiously, lips curved into a hopeful grin. She stopped halfway into reaching out to hug him when he stepped back and held up the note she’d left.

“Why?” he asked, handing it over.

“I figured you didn’t want me there anymore,” she shrugged, pushing her hair, still damp from the shower, behind her ears. “But you know that won’t keep me from being honest with you.”

Bucky huffed a soft chuckle. Ihrin could be so literal sometimes, it drove him crazy. “No, not the note, honey. Why do you care?”

Ihrin’s lips quirked up in a little smirk. She reached out and grabbed a fist full of Bucky’s shirt and gently pulled him into her home. Once the door was shut, she turned, rising up on her toes and pressing a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. He froze, then moved back, seeming unsure considering where they’d just ended up at his place.

“I told you I shouldn’t have let you get mixed up in this. It’s... I’m not worth the risk.”

Ihrin frowned. He was still on about letting her do things, as if he had any control at all of her choices. She sighed in annoyance as she turned away from him, walking to her kitchen to put on some water for tea. 

“You know, Bucky,” she called over her shoulder, “the only thing you need to worry about letting me do is love you, because I do. You being a pain in the ass about it isn’t going to change that.” 

Bucky opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out. He had been completely ready to come back with the myriad of reasons he should go, but it all faded away the moment she said those simple words. The way she said it, like no matter what he thought, no matter what he said, it told him her mind was made up. She was her own person - autonomous, fierce, and far too forgiving. 

But she loved him. Ihrin loved him. There wasn’t anything he did to deserve it, yet there she was, unapologetic and unafraid. 

God, why did that scare him so much? 

Ihrin walked back over to Bucky and took his hand, leading him to the sofa in her small living room. She took the note, still held tight in his hand and a little bit crumpled, and set it on the side table before facing him with her legs curled up under her long nightgown. He watched as she pulled her long, still damp hair to the side and braided it loosely in that way she had, but a sinking feeling came over him as he noticed the marks on her neck. Her soft, flawless skin was bruised and bitten. The marks a direct result of how carelessly he’d handled her. 

“I uh,” he cleared his throat uncomfortably, “I need to apologize to you.” Bucky squirmed, not entirely meeting Ihrin’s eyes and stared down at his hands, one metal and the other rough and calloused. He wondered how many more marks there were in the shape of those hands under the fabric of her nightgown. “The way I touched you-”

“-are you seriously going to apologize for fucking me when it’s what I wanted, too?”

Bucky’s eyes shot up to Ihrin and for a moment he was taken aback by the brash question and challenging glint in her eyes. He responded on pure instinct, the playful banter the two of them had coming back naturally. Jesus, she did nothing by halves, that was for goddamned sure. 

He licked his lips and grinned that crooked nervous curl of his lips he had and chuckled softly. Though he could feel his cheeks heating up, it felt good to have this back with her, to fall right back into her welcoming acceptance.

“Wasn’t my finest moment…”

She shrugged and cocked a brow, not arguing. “Maybe so, but it wasn’t the worst I’ve had.”

He laughed, fully this time. “Thank you- I think?” 

Ihrin climbed onto Bucky’s lap, straddling his legs and holding onto his shoulders. He brought his hands up to hold her hips gently as she leaned in to kiss him, and he took the chance, kissing her back. She carded her hands through his hair as their mouths explored one another, tasting, slow and unrushed. 

That should have been their first kiss, but since when were they ever conventional? Bucky pulled back and pressed his forehead against Ihrin’s, his eyes still closed. Their breath mingled softly, and he felt a calm settle over him, feeling as close to being at peace as he could remember. 

She loved him, and he knew he loved her, too, though he hesitated to say it out of fear of ruining everything. The last time he’d loved someone... and besides, he didn’t deserve her. She’d only get hurt if he stayed. 

“What are you thinking so hard about?” she asked quietly before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips and wrapping him up in a hug, her soft body curled against him, full of trust. 

Bucky swallowed hard, holding Ihrin close and burying his face into the soft skin of her neck. And somehow, it was easier that way, without having to look her in the eye. 

“You said you love me.” 

_ “Da. Inima mea iti apartine,”  _ she murmured, but pulled back to look at him. “Don’t feel like you have to say it back or anything. I mean, I know you care about me...” 

“But?” he asked. 

He could tell there was something else. It was in the way she held him, her arms still wrapped around his neck as though she was afraid to let him go. 

“Stay. Please,” she murmured, hands moving to cup his jaw, eyes pleading with him as she valiantly fought to hold back tears. It was so unlike her to ask for anything of anyone; it’s just how she was, strong and independent to a fault, and it drew him in like a flower to the warm spring sun. 

“I don’t want you to leave, Bucky. I love you. Just... please, tell me you won’t go.”

And after everything, the months of friendship, of Ihrin getting to know Bucky, then knowing who he was yet still being there for him as he sorted out who he needed to be, she somehow loved him. 

“I don’t deserve you,” was all he could say.

She shook her head sadly, tears shining but still not spilling over her beautiful eyes. “You deserve to be loved.”

They met again in a kiss, not soft, but not rushed and desperate, either. The way Ihrin kissed Bucky was altogether different. She moved reverently, as though committing every last taste, every touch to memory. Something tightened in Bucky’s chest, and a desire to love her back the way she deserved took root. He had to figure himself out; there was no other option because he had to be able to give her back the love she so freely gave him. 

Ihrin had never asked Bucky for anything, only that he stay. He didn’t understand what it was she saw in him, but in that moment, he vowed never to stop trying until he righted enough wrongs to somehow be worthy of her love. 

They’d just started to get lost in each other when the kettle on the stove began whistling, its pitch high and demanding. Ihrin sighed out an annoyed groan and dropped her head back dramatically. Bucky grinned, feeling more himself than ever, and leaned forward to press a soft, teasing kiss to the column of her throat, making her giggle with the way his lips tickled her skin.

“Want some tea?” she asked, grinning at him.

“No.”

“No? What do you want?”

_ “The doresc.” _

Ihrin met Bucky with a blinding smile, her soft lips reddened and shining from their kiss, color flushed up high on her cheeks. The hopeful glint in her eyes and her happy laughter was something Bucky wanted to commit to memory, to never forget. 

He wasn’t going anywhere, not without her.

 

Romanian to English

_ Bucky, nu înțeleg. _ = Bucky, I don’t understand.

_ Nu v-am mai văzut de mult.  _ = I haven’t seen you in a while.

_ Ești bine? = Are you okay? _

_ A înceta!  _ = Stop it!

_ Te rog, The doresc _ = Please, I want you.

_ Da. Inima mea iti apartine. _ = Yes. My heart belongs to you.

_ The doresc. _ = I want you.


	6. Into the Darkness

**Into the Darkness**

“Bucky,” Ihrin’s soft whisper called as she brushed back Bucky's hair. 

Bucky’s brow furrowed in his sleep. He tried to focus his consciousness, tried chasing the sound, but it disappeared into the darkness. Terror and pain enveloped him once again, trapped him against an unforgiving metal table, white hot searing jolts shot through him like electricity, and the slicing sensations of a thousand scalpels against his skin made him try desperately to scream. 

There was so much pain. Too much. And the cold wouldn’t release it’s grip on his left arm. He was so cold he felt it deep in his bones and he tried begging for help, but couldn’t get sound out past his lips, breath caught in a silent scream, burning in his lungs.

The ghost of a tall, strong man appeared. The features were that of a boy from his childhood, the silhouette shrouded in a soft glow looking down on him, the man gently patting his cheek and bringing him out from underneath the panic welling inside his chest. He knew this face, loved this face. It was the face of an angel, the look of a million shared glances, reminiscent of quiet whispers and feather light touches against his skin. The pain and fear subsided, giving way to the warmth radiating from the man. 

But how was that possible? The face was familiar and beloved… but the body attached to it just... didn’t belong. It was too different, but even so he tried like hell to make the square peg fit into the round hole of his memory, knowing on a visceral level that the physical outside perfectly mirrored the strength and dedication of the heart inside the man.

More than a man.

Steve. 

“Ste-,” Bucky half-called in his sleep and his brow furrowed even more, causing Ihrin to stop the petting motion of her hand against Bucky's hair.

_ “Bucky, dragostea mea. Se trezi,”  _ Ihrin murmured, voice still quiet, gently urging him to wake.

Simply speaking to Bucky in Romanian sometimes was enough to pull him out of his dreams, reminding him on a subconscious level that he was safe, that Ihrin was there with him. She knew she couldn’t rush it, though, that the grip Bucky’s nightmares had on him was very strong. If he woke too quickly, the chances were he’d end up stuck in the dark recesses of his mind even longer. So, she reached out to lightly brush his hair back, softly calling his name and speaking in her native tongue. 

The night worsened as it progressed. The next time she attempted to rouse him, Bucky flinched away from Ihrin’s touch, the only sounds his labored breathing and quiet whimpering as he trembled. He burned hot from the tension held in his body, every inch of corded muscle beneath his skin flexed tight, ready to snap into defensive action, so Ihrin carefully withdrew her hand. 

Pushing it too far when he was like this wouldn’t be the first time, but Ihrin learned early on what not to do. She learned that when he was like this, when his mind was torturing him so severely, shaking him awake would likely end in a metal fist wrapped around her throat, his wild eyes panicked and unseeing as he fought to regain consciousness. 

Deep inside Bucky’s subconscious mind, the realization and horror that it was Steve haunting his dreams drew every bit of breath from his lungs. Knowing it wasn't real, but being helpless to wake, he fell deeper into the freezing, dark mist. Steve faded away from him, further into the darkness, and Bucky tried like hell to follow Steve’s shadow, to find him in the night, in the bitter, unforgiving cold. He caught up, only to find himself straddling Steve’s lifeless body, battered, beaten, and so horrifyingly bloody. 

A broken sob rose in his throat as the metal fist pummelled Steve’s beautiful face over and over, well past the point where there was no fight left in the man. Bucky did his best to scream, he tried to stop the arm from killing Steve. He couldn’t hurt something so innocent, dedicated and forgiving, but he wasn't strong enough to make it stop. The twisted mind controlling the heinous metal arm acted blindly, a killing machine, punching repeatedly, acting on its own volition.

On some deep, repressed primal level he knew the pain, the fear, the forced silence… they weren’t real. He knew that he was trapped inside a dream; the healing he had done over time was enough to help him tell the difference. Even with that knowledge cemented deep in his mind, it was still next to impossible to rise out from under the visions, leaving him at the mercy of his own consciousness - what had been done to it, and what he had done to Steve.

Below him, Steve's lifeless body fell from the helicarrier into the freezing water below.

“Steve!” 

In the panic, the scream finally made it past Bucky's throat, loud, desperate and tortured, causing Ihrin to jump. Her heart broke for Bucky as he fought, still trapped inside the hell of his mind. 

“Please… Steve…” Bucky begged.

There it was, that name again, the one that haunted Bucky's dreams on the worst nights. It was something Ihrin had only asked about a very few times, because the way he shut down on her broke her heart. She wasn't foolish, she knew she had opened her heart and home to an international criminal, a wanted man with a past longer than most men lived. But it was a past of being tortured and unmade, twisted into something that haunted his dreams, a past he still hadn’t forgiven himself for. 

Ihrin knew on a superficial, public knowledge level who Steve was, but that was about it. She just wished Bucky would open up to her about who Steve was to him, why the name haunted his dreams so often, so horrifically sometimes. She knew they were best friends, but the way Bucky suffered when he was trapped inside his worst nightmares told her that this terror, whatever it was, and the way he refused to talk about Steve didn’t make sense. 

There had to be more, because the history and the pain ran much deeper than a simple lost friendship. Ihrin wanted to be there for Bucky, for him to let her in, even if it was just enough so she could reassure him that she would still love him no matter what happened in the past, no matter what he’d been made to do all those years, so she clung to the hope that he would talk about it when he was ready. 

But if that day never came? Well, then that was just going to have to be okay too. She wasn’t going anywhere, especially not now. But that remained a conversation for another time.

Ihrin laid back down, burrowing into the extra heat that radiated from Bucky’s body and gently traced her hand up and down his back. It didn’t seem to help, so she went back to petting his hair and lightly scratching her nails against his scalp, his breathing finally leveling out as she did. If nothing else, she could bring him that little bit of comfort when his mind wouldn’t let him free. 

 

Romanian to English

_ Bucky, dragostea mea. Se trezi.  _ = Bucky, my love. Wake up.


	7. From Darkness to Light

**From Darkness to Light**

Some hours later, light from the morning sun filtered through the curtains and Ihrin turned, groaning out a yawn and hiding her face in her pillow. Tired, so tired, she stretched the length of her spine, all the way down to her pointed toes. Pressing her face further into the pillow, her body was heavy with sleep after a rough night. 

It was a morning like many others in recent days, Ihrin waking exhausted and feeling unrested. Bucky's been understanding of her grumpiness, thinking the stress of them sleeping together was what caused her exhaustion, considering he still had nightmares. Movement next to her in bed roused Ihrin further from her slumber.

_ “Buna, scumpul meu. Te iubesc,” _ Bucky murmured. 

Ihrin’s eyes fluttered open for a moment as she grinned sleepily at the sound of his voice saying he loved her. She would never tire of hearing him say that.

_ “Mmm, ești iubitul meu,” _ she grinned, mumbling her love back but not lifting her face from the pillow. 

Ihrin had been so tired in the mornings for the past few weeks, though it was difficult to awaken quickly, her skin tingled pleasantly as Bucky kissed her temple and moved lower. Soft lips and prickly morning stubble lightly teased against the skin at the back of her shoulder, making her sigh quietly through a blissful grin. Relief flooded Ihrin, knowing that he was doing so much better after the hell of the night before.

Bucky’s warm hand brushed Ihrin’s long hair to the side so he could reach more of her soft skin and she melted into the touch. God, he was so gentle with her, always making her feel exactly how treasured she was. And as much as she’d planned on sleeping in, on refusing to open her eyes before late morning, she found the way Bucky’s lips traced the length of her spine, continuing lower down her bare back, absolutely irresistible. They’d only been living together for a short time since that first time, back in his apartment, and needless to say, the sex had only gotten better. 

“Bucky,” Ihrin tried to grumble, the pleasure in her tone belying the annoyance she did her best to force into her voice. 

He huffed a pleased laugh, breath soft and warm against her bare skin. “Yeah, honey?” 

Ihrin couldn’t help the way she arched up into Bucky’s touch, nor could she hide the quiet moan that escaped her lips as a large, warm palm slid under the tangled sheets, over her rear and down the back of her thigh. He traced her body back up, his grip on her ass tightening as he massaged her flesh. It was wonderfully obvious; she didn’t even have to open her eyes to feel the smirk of his lips against her skin.

“Sleep, Bucky. I want more sleep,” she demanded playfully through a scratchy morning voice, biting back a giggle as he teasingly walked his fingers up her spine.

“Okay, just kiss me first.”

Ihrin turned over into Bucky’s embrace, her brown eyes fluttering open the rest of the way. She grinned. She didn’t want him to let her be, rather she very much enjoyed where his touches were headed. She ran her fingers back through his long, thick hair so she could see his beautiful gray eyes and wrapped her arms around his strong shoulders, pulling him in. Lazy morning kisses bled into more insistent touches, each of them letting their hands roam possessively. 

Bucky’s lips trailed lower past the sensitive skin of Ihrin’s neck, over her collarbone, and against her breasts, her nipples exquisitely sensitive as he took his time teasing with his hot mouth. He pressed her further onto her back and settled over her. The weight of his thick, muscular body pressed her into the mattress, surrounding her in warmth. 

She arched into his touch and whimpered from the sensations as he laved his tongue over her breasts, teasing with barely there scrapes of his teeth. His hips ground down against her, hard cock heavy against her thigh. Bucky's warm hand trailed down Ihrin’s body, tightening the slightest bit around her hip as a deep groan of desire left his throat. 

“You still wanna go back to sleep?” he asked pulling back, gray eyes darkened with desire like a storm on the horizon.

_ “Nu, The doresc,” _ she murmured against his lips.

Bucky latched onto Ihrin’s neck with a wet, demanding mouth, his kisses leaving marks in their wake as he positioned himself in the cradle of her smaller frame. She was soft, warm and welcoming, the way she opened herself for him. In her arms he found shelter, in her body, release. 

The way she loved all of him - or at least the pieces he chose to give - never ceased to amaze him. He still didn’t understand how this person, so good and honest, could choose to love someone like him even after knowing all the awful things he’d done, but she did, and she never failed to show him just how much.

 

Romanian to English

_ Buna, scumpul meu. Te iubesc.  _ = Good morning, precious one. I love you.

_ Ești iubitul meu _ = My beloved (as spoken to a man)

_ The doresc.  _ = I want you.


	8. A Sweet Surprise

**A Sweet Surprise**

Late in the morning, Bucky and Ihrin went to their favorite farmer’s market. They walked back hand in hand, rather than take the bus back to their Rahova neighborhood in Sector Five. Once the metallic elephant in the room was out in the open, Ihrin had no problem loading Bucky's left arm down with her many shopping bags full of groceries. After all, he ate quite a bit, and she loved to cook.

At Bucky’s insistence, they stopped off at the Piaţa de flori Coșbuc so he could do some extra shopping. There were beautiful blooms in season, flowers in every color imaginable, the breeze carrying scents of the many merchant stands.

“Tell me what you like, honey,” Bucky murmured to Ihrin as he brought her hand up to his lips for a soft kiss. 

The gesture touched Ihrin’s heart. They’d never been to the flower market before; in fact, their previous errands had all been pretty short. Bucky was still having trouble in crowded spaces sometimes, and the constant buzzing of anxiety he had from possibly being recognized nagged him even on the best of days.

But this? Taking her to the flower market, which was a new place… he was trying and she appreciated the gesture, more than she let on. It brought a bright smile to her lips, even as she tried to contain her excitement. 

“Come on, you. Let’s get a little of everything, yeah?” he grinned, pulling her by the hand from stand to stand. 

By the time they were done, Ihrin’s arms were loaded down with roses in every color, daisies and mums, and of course lilies. She wasn’t complaining, though. He had the heavy load and she got to carry the fragrant blooms the rest of the way home. After the groceries were put away, they started on the flowers. Vases and tall plastic cups did their best to display the vibrant colors, but there were some still on the counter. Almost every flat surface was covered, they were simply out of space. 

“Is there a special occasion you’re not telling me about?” Ihrin asked. She’d just started the water to run a bath, there were even flowers surrounding the bathtub.

“I just want you to enjoy them. I get to see the most beautiful woman on earth every day, and you’re stuck lookin’ at my ugly mug,” he teased. “Thought I’d brighten the place up a bit.”

Ihrin sidled up next to Bucky as he arranged some buds in their last big plastic yellow cup and set it on the bathroom counter. “You know, I kinda like looking at you too, you’re not half bad.”

“Oh really?” he laughed, wrapping his arms around her and pulling a face like he was offended. 

Bucky bent down to kiss Ihrin and she met him halfway. It started as sweet, chaste, but as they took time tasting each other, Bucky’s hands traveled lower, over the swell of Ihrin’s ass. He spread his fingers, squeezing her flesh possessively and moaning into her mouth. 

“Easy,  _ Iubitul.  _ I have a bath running,” Ihrin murmured against Bucky’s lips.

Bucky chuckled darkly against Ihrin’s ear. “You’re lucky I found some self-control, honey. You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

 

Romanian to English

_ Iubitul =  _ Beloved


	9. Black Sea Resort

**Black Sea Resort**

Bucky sat quietly at the resort, in a cabana near the pools, hair up in a casual bun and sunglasses dark enough to cover his eyes as he watched over Ihrin. Wearing a long sleeved UV shirt wasn’t completely unheard of, and as long as Bucky kept the metal hand tucked into the pocket of his shorts, nobody would be the wiser that the man drinking a tuica near the decks was an international fugitive.

They’d come to the Black Sea resort for a long weekend and for Ihrin to teach at some overpriced summertime yoga cleanse bullshit for women with far too much money to waste. As much as it bothered the fuck out of the inherent frugality that lived deep in his core, Bucky loved the time near the sea with her, the fresh air, the sea breeze on his skin. It was something they didn’t get in the city, and the way Ihrin always came to life in the open air could sustain him indefinitely. 

Part of him wanted to pick them up and move them somewhere entirely different, somewhere green and near trees and open space that felt like the middle of nowhere, but close enough to civilization to still have others around. He knew Ihrin would love it, that her free spirit would flourish given the opportunity to be one with nature whenever she wanted, but also be near enough to others to be herself. Perhaps one day he could do that for her, but at the moment they - no, he - needed the anonymity of the city, so they’d have to head back to Rahova and settle for intermittent summer trips to the sea.

Bucky continued to sip his plum brandy, smirking when Ihrin caught his eye and stretched just so as she warmed up before her students arrived. He always loved watching her practice her yoga, loved the way her body moved effortlessly. It was sexy as hell, and she knew just how much it drove him crazy. She never missed the opportunity to tease him with it when all he could do was look but not touch. 

Her dark blonde hair shone like spun gold in the sun, and a light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose was even more noticeable after the time spent at the beach. He noticed that day, there was a tiny bit of belly protruding, enough to notice in her leggings and sports bra. It wasn’t much, barely enough to change her shape, but her knew every inch of her body intimately. She was beautiful and he loved her, no matter what her shape, but she hadn’t been eating, so the fact that her body was changing like that took him by surprise. 

After her class, she came over to sit on his lap and drink a glass of ice water he had waiting for her.  She finished the water and crunched on some ice cubes. Ihrin settled between Bucky’s legs, leaning back against his torso and resting her head on his shoulder.  

She sighed and grinned against his neck,  _ “Mulțumesc foarte mult, Bucky.”  _

“You feelin’ okay, honey?” he asked, knowing she’d been more and more tired recently, and still hadn’t even eaten that day. “Let’s get some lunch, huh?”

Ihrin responded but nuzzling back into Bucky’s embrace and groaning a little sound that made it sound like eating was the last thing on her mind. He instinctively wrapped her up in his arms, and she pressed a soft kiss to the side of his neck.

“Aren’t you hungry?”

_ “Nu. _ I don’t really have an appetite. Are you?”

“I’m always hungry, you know that,” he chuckled. “Let’s get some food, ‘sides my dessert will be ready once I get you back in our room.”

There was desire in his voice, and the way it deepened as he ran his hand down to her hip, pulling her closer in to face him made her skin tingle. God, there was nothing the man could do to keep her from wanting him. And really the only thing she wanted was Bucky in her bed, skin to skin, fucking her until she couldn’t see straight, and then she would tell him. 

But he was right. She knew she needed to eat something, even though nothing sounded good.

“You want me to start with dessert first, out in front of everyone?” he teased, nibbling at the skin just below her ear. 

Ihrin huffed a soft laugh in response, because yes, he sure was always hungry. On top of the sex, which was amazing, it didn’t matter what actual food she made, he was always up for her cooking. The appetite must have been that super soldier metabolism he had from the serum coursing through his veins. She was pretty sure it had everything to do with his sex drive and non-existent recovery period too, not that she was complaining about that.

But the metabolism, the super soldier serum… she wondered if that could be why her body was changing so fast. A tiny bit of hope filtered into Ihrin through a crack in the wall she’d been trying to keep surrounding that part of her heart, but she pushed the thought away. That was a question for another time.

They made it to the restaurant in time for the brunch buffet, and Bucky loaded up his plate. Ihrin did her best to stomach the smell of many foods, but it made it more difficult to eat. She did manage some fresh fruit and a raisin pastry, but when they sat to pray, as was Ihrin’s tradition, Bucky looked at her with eyes full of concern. 

“That’s all you want? You just taught a full hour of yoga.”

Ihrin forced a grin, picking at the grapes on her plate. She could tell he was getting more concerned, and knowing Bucky, he’d figure out something was different sooner rather than later. 

“I’m fine, you worry about me too much.”

“No,” he decided, brow furrowed and jaw set in determination as he scooped some of his scrambled eggs onto her plate. “I think I worry just fine. You’re not eating and you’re tired more lately. You need to eat some protein… please.”

Their eyes met and Ihrin knew this wasn’t a battle she would win. Besides, she wanted it to be just the two of them when she broke the news, preferably somewhere she could talk him down since she still had absolutely no idea how he’d react. They’d only really talked about it right after the first time they fucked. 

He panicked and she told him not to worry. Ihrin explained what the doctor said years prior, that because she never got the right care after the botched abortion she had in her late teens, she wouldn’t ever be able get pregnant, let alone successfully carry a baby to term. It was why she had been keeping her pregnancy to herself. 

It wasn’t supposed to happen. Even if by some miracle it did, she wasn’t supposed to even make it past a few weeks, yet there she was, almost four months along according to the doctor she’d seen the previous week. She would tell him soon. Maybe at home, after she got the ultrasound and she knew for a fact the baby was okay.

Ihrin felt bad, sneaking around and hiding it from Bucky, and knew deep down she was just being a coward. But like she reasoned early on, why take a chance on even speaking it into existence if the baby wouldn’t make it?

Ihrin moved the eggs around her plate with her fork. God, she could smell them, and it wasn’t remotely pleasant. She looked up, meeting Bucky’s worried gaze and forced another half-hearted smile. She could do this, it was only food, right? Only eggs. Squishy, warm, spongy, scrambled-

-she rose abruptly and rushed to the restroom, covering her mouth with her hand and barely making it in time to vomit into the trash can. She didn’t even make it all the way to the toilet, but at that point she’d take what she could get. It was mostly bile, since she’d yet to have anything but water and ice cubes, but still, the thought of tasting eggs-

-and she began dry heaving.

After that finally passed, Ihrin made it to a stall and sat for a moment, holding her head in her hands and trying to calm her labored breathing. She’d done so well in the months up until that point, managing her lack of an appetite by staying away from any kind of cooked eggs. She though she’d done a pretty damn good job of acting as normal as possible, too, even though every night she went to bed wondering if when she woke up it would be to blood and cramping.  

Ihrin stood, but when she bent to pull her leggings up she was hit with another wave of nausea as the world around her spun off its axis. And holy shit, maybe Bucky was right. She needed some kind of protein. She steadied herself, bracing a hand on either side of the stall, but jumped when she heard an anxious pounding against the restroom entrance before the door swing open the slightest bit.

“Ihrin?  _ Ești bine?”  _ Bucky called out, worry lacing his tone.

_ “Da, cu fineţe,” _ she answered and exited the stall.

She had just finished washing her hands, rushing to dry them against the fabric of her leggings as she exited the restroom only to bump into Bucky, waiting right outside the door.

“Come here,” he said quietly, gently cupping her face in her hands.

Ihrin did her best to shrug his concern off, though it simultaneously warmed and broke her heart. She knew she really needed to tell him, but she was so afraid of what might happen. Living in fear wasn’t something Ihrin was used to; it went against every part of her.

“Something’s not right. Don’t act like it’s nothing, Ihrin. I need you to tell me what’s going on. Are you sick?”

“Bucky,” Ihrin grinned, suddenly taken aback by how incredibly much she loved him. “I’m not sick… I mean, I just was,” she shrugged, nodding back to the restroom. “But I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Bucky sighed, the line of his shoulders still tense as he pulled Ihrin into a hug. He knew something was going on with Ihrin, but he also knew she was the single most stubborn person he knew. And he grew up with Steve Rogers, so that was really saying something. 

“Can we go eat?” Ihrin asked, finally feeling like she could tolerate food after succumbing to her morning sickness. 

Maybe that was the key, after all. Not fighting the sickness, just going with it, getting rid of whatever her body wanted to expel… hopefully that would help her feel better. Bucky finally released his hold on her and she grinned up at him reassuringly. 

“Come on,” she said, “let’s eat.”

 

Romanian to English

_ Mulțumesc foarte mult, Bucky. =  _ Thank you so much, Bucky.

_ Nu =  _ No

_ Ești bine? =  _ Are you okay?

_ Da, cu fineţe. =  _ Yes, I’m fine.


	10. Come on Home Soon

**Come On Home Soon**

Steve and Sam had been close to finding Bucky for a few hot minutes until they’d lost him altogether. It had been over a year. A year’s worth of hope and disappointment, a year’s worth of maybe it’s him, only for the trail to run cold the moment it heated up. 

“How much longer do you wanna keep doin’ this, Steve?” Sam asked his friend, peering over his paper carton of Shrimp Lo Mein. “I’m here, as long as you need, but I’m startin’ to wonder if this is something you still wanna do.”

Steve understood. He had been getting crabby as fuck lately and none of it was Sam’s fault. Steve was being a dick a lot, taking his frustration out on the closest person, and Sam was collateral damage, but he was also forgiving, and Steve didn’t deserve it. Did Steve want to live in shitty little motel rooms across Europe, living his life eating take-out and having his hopes dashed against the proverbial rocks of despair? No. 

Could Steve Rogers be just a little dramatic from time to time? Apparently the answer was a resounding yes. 

“This food is shit, Sam.”

Sam snorted and poked a shrimp with his chopsticks. “Man, you’re the one with the bright idea of ordering Chinese in Romania. How many actual Chinese people did you see in that place, anyway?”

Steve scowled into his carton of fried wontons. He actually thought something fried would be hard to mess up and give him a ton of extra calories to metabolize. That was before he bit into the squishy pastry filled with mystery meat. 

Gross.

“Look, you don’t get a Chinese food if you don’t see any Chinese people actually eating there,” Sam explained like he was teaching a small child how to tie their shoes. He passed the carton of Shrimp Lo Mein to Steve. “Eat some. It ain’t great, but it’s gotta be better than whatever that’s supposed to be.”

Steve picked at the shrimp and ate some of the noodles. Sam was right about the food, and also about wondering if Steve really wanted to keep chasing after a ghost. Still, Nat hadn’t told him to throw in the towel yet, so that has to count for something, right? She had no problem telling Steve when he was being a certifiable dumbass. 

The next morning, Steve woke to a new encrypted message on his phone, but it wasn’t from Nat, and it wasn’t about a rise in the threat level or a mission, either. He had to admit, he was surprised to see Tony’s face in the video feed. Given the chaos in the lab behind him, Tony had been up far too long, and it was only a matter of time before something caught fire. 

A true Stark, through and through.

“Hey Capsicle, just checking in... seein’ if you found your boyfriend yet.” Tony quipped, eyes darting behind the camera and to the side for a minute before returning. “--No! I said it goes over there! Jesus, DUM-E, one more time and I’m using you for spare parts!--

“Anyway, I just wanted to let you know I got an anonymous care package in the mail from Agent 13 - I mean… from an anonymous source. Turns out there was a Sokovian Special Forces bad guy that was planning to impersonate your boy toy and bomb the UN. They apprehended him, but he met an untimely death when he went for one of the JSOC guys’ weapons. That’s the UN for you, though. Am I right?” 

Tony went quiet for a moment, holding a screwdriver in his mouth as he fiddled with God only knew what, then took it out. When he looked back at the camera, he seemed more serious, almost earnest. 

“Come on home soon, Steve. We miss ya. And don’t forget, even Captain America needs to take a break every now and then.”

Sam came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his hips just as Steve finished watching Tony’s video. Steve’s eyes shot to Sam, who stood patiently with a quirked brow, waiting to hear the latest update. As soon as Steve realized he was ogling Sam, he respectfully looked away. 

Steve wasn’t blind, Sam was a good looking man. A really good looking man, and an even better friend. He’d taken Steve’s pitiful attempt at flirting in stride all those years ago at the National Mall, and after letting him down easy they’d formed a close bond. Steve had been lonely, and Sam was just so Sam... all pretty dark eyes and loud laughter and imperfect smile. Sam turned out to be a hard zero on the Kinsey scale, but instead of holding Steve’s flailing attempt against him he’d been a pseudo-mentor to Steve in all things 21st century pop culture.

‘Yo. Earth to Steve. You hear me?” Sam asked, waving his hand at Steve, and Steve blinked hard, snapping out of his reverie.  

“Huh?” Steve asked, eloquent as ever. “Yeah, sorry. That was Tony.”

“Got a mission?”

“Nu-uh…” Steve muttered, scratching at his three-day stubble and thinking intently on Sam’s question from the night before and now Tony’s suggestion to come home. Maybe it was time to call it quits.

“Okay, did he get new intel?”

Steve sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes, dragging his big hands down his face. He was beginning to feel the kind of tired that no amount of sleep could fix. He shook his head, brow furrowed. 

“No. Think the trail’s cold, Sam. Maybe we should…” he shrugged.

“Maybe you should go take a hot shower. Ain’t nothin’ good gonna come from a big decision made right after a night of bad food and shit sleep. At least not before you get a shower.”

Sam reached for Steve, clasped his forearm and hauled him up. He hesitated before turning Steve toward the bathroom, pulling him into a warm, comforting hug that Steve melted into. It was rare for Steve to let himself off the hook of being in charge, to let anyone else take the wheel, but he trusted Sam. 

“I just can’t give up yet, Sam. I gotta know he’s safe,” Steve whispered around the lump in his throat. 

“Look,” Sam said, pulling back but still holding Steve by the ridiculous set to his shoulders. “Staying positive doesn’t mean you have to be happy about it all the time. It just means that even on hard days, you gotta trust that there are better ones coming.” Sam grinned that infectious smile he had and nodded toward the bathroom, shoving Steve in the general direction. 

Steve shut the door, and heard Sam from the other side.“Hey Steve! I’m picking every goddamn meal we eat today!”

“Alright I guess that’s fair!” he answered back before starting the water.

Steve stepped into the small stall, lowering his head until he could get it close enough to qualify as under the spray of water. If there was one good thing that could be said about the little hostel he and Sam were holed up in that week, it was that the water pressure was amazing. Yes, it was inexpensive, so it wasn’t in a very safe area of Bucharest, but most neighborhoods in the capital city were like that. 

Thinking back to Nat’s most recent suggestion, Steve realized that because Romania was still trying to recover from so much unrest, he couldn’t blame Bucky if he’d chosen somewhere like that to hide out. 

So that was their plan. One week per sector of Bucharest. No wonder Steve was disheartened, they were almost through the fifth of six sectors, and so far the time spent in Rahova, Sector Five hadn’t be productive. He was almost ready to give up before that talk with Sam, but once Steve had pulled his head out of his mopey ass, Nat’s suggestion made perfect sense. Bucharest did seem to fit, there was nothing HYDRA in Romania. In fact, that’s why Steve never considered it as a possible location for Bucky before. 

Early on, when it seemed like he was just a fraction of a moment too late to catch up with Bucky, it had been because of the destruction left in Bucky’s wake. Base after HYDRA base had been destroyed, burned to the ground, and by the time Steve and Sam arrived on scene, all that remained were either smoldering remains of abandoned warehouses or corpses.

At first it seemed to unsettle Sam, the death and destruction that littered the bases, but that was just because he hadn’t known Bucky like Steve did. Even back in the thirties, Bucky had always been a vengeful little shit, always trying to settle scores. It was one of those damned Barnes habits that Steve had tried break Bucky out of. Steve explained it to Sam as best as he could, and Sam tried like hell to wrap his mind around how that translated into the death and destruction Bucky left behind, because he was a good friend like that. 

Steve huffed a soft laugh to himself as he washed his hair. It was silly, way back when, how much breath he wasted on trying to reason with Bucky that he was okay, that he’d always be okay even after getting his ass kicked out on the streets. If he’d known that all Bucky really needed for reassurance was to be pushed face down on the bed, for Steve to grind down against his ass and pull his hair… if Steve had known that was all it took to get Bucky in the right headspace, well, that would have saved them a lot of time wasted arguing. Because if bony little Steve was strong enough to fuck Bucky’s brains out, even after getting his ass kicked by a group of thugs on the Brooklyn streets, then Bucky could finally believe that Steve was okay. 

Steve giving Bucky a good dicking had always helped Bucky put things back into perspective, to slot their reality back into place. Back in the War, Steve would drag Bucky off into the woods for what the Howlies had dubbed “special debriefing” after every battle. Sometimes they were lucky enough to come across the remains of a bombed out village or the frame of a half-destroyed barn where they could find a mattress or stack of hay. Steve would fuck Bucky nice and slow and sweet, kissing him and whispering words of praise and reassurance. 

In the grand scheme of things, it didn’t much matter how or where Steve and Bucky made time. Bucky would take Steve any way he could get him, whether he was on his knees at Steve’s feet behind a sturdy tree, or if Steve had him pushed up against a brick wall, or on his hands and knees on the forest floor. Bucky didn’t care, because as long as Steve could fuck him, that meant they’d both made it. They were okay, they’d both lived to see another day.

The memory made Steve’s heart ache and his dick hard, all at the same time. His Bucky, beautiful, intelligent, loving, with a body practically made for taking Steve’s cock. Steve rinsed his hair and set his jaw resolutely. He wouldn’t give up, wouldn’t stop looking until he found Bucky, brought him home, just like when Steve defied Colonel Phillips by rescuing Bucky and the rest of the 107th a lifetime ago. 

Steve just knew he could help Bucky remember what they’d been to one another, believed it from his balls to his bones. The fact that they were in a relatively HYDRA-free country made Steve hope that Bucky was ready to stop running. Steve couldn’t wait to get Bucky back in his arms, to kiss his lips, take him apart with his mouth until all Bucky knew again was that they were okay, they’d both made it out the other side. 

They could finally be together out in the open. No more hiding behind closed doors, nothing and nobody keeping them apart. Never again.

Steve, with his enhanced hearing, heard the door to their room open and shut, assuming Sam left to get breakfast. His stomach made a rumbling demand as he turned off the shower and toweled off. He was glad Sam was in charge of their food that day.


	11. Photographic Memory

**Photographic Memory**

Ihrin was eating more, and Bucky was happy to see her appetite come back. In fact, it was bigger than ever and one day she woke him up a little early.

“Mornin’ honey,” he murmured, voice thick from sleep. “You okay?”

“Mhmm, m’hungry,” she said, settling into her spot with her head on his shoulder so she could lay her hand over his heart. 

Bucky grinned sleepily. He wasn’t sure if this was something new they were trying or if Ihrin really wanted to eat. Either way, he was already hard. 

“What’re you hungry for?”

Ihrin sighed little noise and murmured a bashfully against the skin of Bucky’s chest. _ “Minipateuri cu Spanac.” _

Oh, Bucky thought, she’s actually food hungry. Ihrin’s request was oddly specific, but since she was eating better, he was more than happy to get her some freshly baked spinach rolls. He knew just where to get them, too. They didn’t have anything in the house to make them with, and Bucky would probably burn the place down if he tried, anyway. 

“Want me to go get ‘em for you?” he asked, pressing a kiss into the hair at the crown of Ihrin’s head. He didn’t mind, not in the least, so when Ihrin propped her head up to meet his eyes, Bucky grinned wide. 

“You don’t mind? I mean, it’s still kind of early.”

“Nah, I’m glad you’re hungry. You had me worried for a while, so if  _ Minipateuri cu Spanac _ is what you want, then that is what I’ll get you.” He cupped her face gently and kissed her lips, just a chaste good morning kiss before rolling out of bed and walking to the bathroom. 

Ihrin blinked slowly, watching Bucky move across their bedroom and through the archway out into the living space with near-feline grace. His big, naked frame and thick muscle mass was a direct contrast to the way he moved so effortlessly, completely silent save for the water recently running in the bathroom. He was still half-hard and part of her wanted to drag him back to bed, pin him down and ride him into next week before finally breaking the news to him.

She knew she wasn’t actually pinning Bucky down, okay, it’s just that sometimes he liked to give up control in bed. It had taken him a while to come right out and say it, but Ihrin saw nothing wrong with his request, in fact it was one of her new favorite things they did. She’d almost gotten out of bed to grab him, but then her stomach growled. 

Right, food. Then they could fuck. God, she wanted it bad, too.

**~*~**

As much as Bucky tried to shake the feeling at the bakery, he couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong. He’d only just left Ihrin seeing as how the bakery wasn’t far from home, but whatever caused his hackles to be raised was persistent. The feeling hadn’t come around in ages, that cramped, tingling sensation, cold fingers trailing up his spine and neck, causing his shoulders to creep closer to his ears, jaw tight and posture defensive.  

The kid behind the counter could tell the difference in Bucky’s expression as he ordered the pastries. Usually they’d make small talk, Ihrin catching up with  _ Bunică,  _ as she called the elderly woman that owned the place. At first it was odd, since technically Bucky was older than the boy’s grandma, but he didn't like to think about that.

_ “Unde este Ihrin?” Bunică  _ asked, emerging from the back carrying a tray of  _ poale-n brâu. _

_ “Acasă,”  _ he replied, forcing a smile, eyes darting to the big picture window behind him. 

The kid at the counter bagged his order, and  _ Bunică  _ slipped in a  _ poale-n brâu,  _ nodding knowingly _. “Prelua, de Ihrin.” _

Bucky thanked the sweet woman, pulling his hat lower over his eyes as he exited the bakery. He paused, eyes darting left the right but he saw nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that would indicate Hydra was afoot. He saw a man walking the opposite way with a bag in one hand and his phone in the other but he was alone and didn’t fit Bucky’s assessment of a threat. In fact, the guy should probably focus more on where he was headed and less on his phone screen if he didn’t want to walk into a wall or something.

The balmy summer morning seemed like any other, except for the feeling deep in his gut and crawling up the back of his neck. Not one to be careless, Bucky took the long way home, winding through back streets and alleys instead of going straight back to Ihrin. He couldn’t be too sure, or too careful. Once he was sure he was the only one headed toward their small cobbled street, he went home. 

**~*~**

“Someone call for delivery?” Bucky announced as he let himself back in. 

Ihrin greeted him, fresh from the shower, hair still damp. After closing the door, he turned, wrapping her up in his free arm. She hugged him tightly before sniffing the air. 

“Those smell amazing!”

“Got a  _ poale-n brâu  _ in there, too. From  _ Bunică,” _ Bucky grinned, watching as Ihrin settled on the couch and dug through the pastries. She took a bite from the biggest one and looked up at him, moaning obscenely as her eyes fluttered in delight. 

“Oh- I hope you got yourself something too,” she laughed, hand covering her mouth full of pastry. 

Bucky looked up from where he was pouring a cup of coffee when he heard her teasing, and the sight of it all made Bucky laugh, too. Ihrin was adorable. Everything was perfect. 

He was a lucky man. 

Bucky settled next to Ihrin and dug into the bag before the she-monster ate them all, and she playfully swiped the bag away from his hands. Luckily, his reflexes were all Bucky. He’d had lightning fast hands well before The War and HYDRA, it was probably why he’d been a boxing champ. Ihrin polished off her pastry and sipped her coffee, snuggling next to Bucky as natural and breathing. He wrapped his arms around her and leaned over to press another kiss to her head.

After a quiet moment, Ihrin stilled and looked up at him, chewing her lip like she did when she wanted to say something but was unsure how to begin. She looked away before taking another bite of a spinach roll. 

Bucky realized Ihrin had been chewing her lip like that a lot lately. It worried him when she was feeling sick but once she was better, it didn’t concern him as much. Still, he wanted her to be able to talk to him, so he dropped his pastry back into the bag and sipped his coffee before meeting her eyes resolutely. 

“Tell me what’s on your mind, honey,” he prodded. 

Ihrin dropped her eyes anxiously, then stood. He watched as she went to her bag and pulled out an envelope, holding it against her breast. She shuddered a breath before walking back to stand before him. 

“This is for you,” she said quietly. 

Bucky took the envelope, heart pounding in his throat as he opened it with shaking hands. He didn’t know why he was nervous, probably because of how Ihrin seemed so unsure of herself. It wasn’t like her. 

He licked his lips and swallowed hard as he pulled out a small stack of grainy, black and white photos. There was nothing distinguishable that he could pick out on the first one, so his brow furrowed in confusion as he flipped to the next in the stack. The second photo had light spaces in the shape of... a couple of chicken legs? Or maybe a toothless T-Rex opening its mouth to roar, with a little arrow pointing into its mouth. 

Bucky was completely lost. He looked up to Ihrin, but her expression was frozen, showing nothing other than strict apprehension.  

He began, “What am I-” 

“-keep going,” she murmured, worrying her lip again.

Bucky flipped to the next photo, and that one… that one he thought looked like a tiny profile and there was a pink heart in the corner. It said Baby Barnes. 

“I’m... um - you’re,” Ihrin began, choking on a sob, and motioning to the small protrusion of her lower abdomen. 

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

It was like the neurons in Bucky’s brain finally fired or something, and in an instant, he was up, wrapping Ihrin in his arms. She hugged him back, burying her face into his neck and trembling. Bucky felt the wet tears against his skin as Ihrin finally let herself cry. He pulled back and cradled her face gently between his hands, his own eyes wet with tears. 

“You’re really?” he began after he put her down, hardly able to form words. He looked back at the photo with the little pink bow. “And it’s a girl? We know already?”

Ihrin nodded, excitement trying to break through her tears, but she was still terrified. The whole time she’d kept it to herself, she could push away the thoughts whenever she got overwhelmed, but with the ultrasound and those photos, and after telling Bucky - it was all real. 

She was going to be a mother. In just five short months they were going to have a daughter. As long as...

“I’m so scared, Bucky.”

“What? Why?” he asked densely, like they hadn’t already had that conversation. 

But he didn’t understand. If she wasn’t supposed to be able to get pregnant, yet there they were, he assumed she was better. There wasn’t exactly a lot of information on fertility and pregnancy in the thirties and forties. 

And the baby, she looked so perfect. 

She! 

He was going to be a daddy. Suddenly the ground moved, the room spun, and things sounded farther away than normal. Bucky plopped down gracelessly on the sofa, his elbows on his knees and head in his hands.

“Bucky?” Ihrin asked in a shaky voice.

She tentatively reached out to card her fingers through his hair. He leaned into the touch like a giant cat, headbutting her hand for more. She moved closer, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face against the soft fabric of her shirt. 

“I love you, honey,” he murmured against the fabric of Ihrin’s shirt.

Ihrin collapsed between his knees, sinking to the floor and wrapping her arms tightly around Bucky’s neck. He reached out, kissing her for all his worth before standing and picking her up, carrying her to the bed. He laid her down carefully, like she was a precious treasure, then set about kissing her lips, her neck.

“Bucky,” she murmured, breath hitching anxiously through the tears that continued to fall. 

Bucky pulled back, meeting Ihrin’s eyes. Something was wrong. The look on her face wasn’t what he expected. Not that he had any fucking clue what to expect, but Ihrin toeing the line of panic wasn’t it.

“What is it, honey? What’s wrong?” he asked, gently tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. 

“I’m really scared. I’m not supposed to be able to… what if-”

“-Come on now, let’s not borrow trouble. You’re not supposed to be able to get pregnant, right?” Bucky asked and Ihrin nodded. 

“Did the doctor say something was wrong with the baby?”

Ihrin met Bucky’s eyes as she shook her head. “No. The baby’s perfect. They said she’s exactly fifteen weeks and two days, healthy as can be.” Ihrin reached out to push Bucky onto his back so she could maneuver into her favorite spot, snuggled against his side with her head on his shoulder. “I’m just scared I’m gonna lose her. That’s why I didn’t want to tell you…”

“Be honest with me. Were you afraid of how I would react?”

“Yeah,” Ihrin answered, voice small. “I didn’t want to get your hopes up, or stress you out, just to end up, you know.”

Bucky sighed heavily, squeezing Ihrin into a hug, then pulled her on top of his body so he could look into her eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. I promised you that, and this baby, whether or not we ever get to have her won’t change that. I love you.”

 

Romanian to English

_ Minipateuri cu Spanac =  _ Small Spinach Pastry

_ Bunică =  _ Grandmother

_ Unde este Ihrin? =  _ Where is Ihrin?

_ poale-n brâu =  _ sweet cheese-filled pastries

_ Acasă =  _ Home

_ Prelua, de Ihrin =  _ Here, for Ihrin


	12. Bird's Eye View

**Bird’s Eye View**

The minute Sam was around the corner, he put down the bag of breakfast he’d gotten to go from the little cafe and leaned against the wall, zooming in on Barnes’ image. Jesus Christ, the guy actually looked - normal. Sure, he looked a little antsy, and for a minute there, Sam though me was made, but when Barnes turned and headed the opposite direction, it took everything in Sam not to look back. And didn’t it fucking figure that Sam would just happen upon Barnes while out getting some nice authentic omletă țărănească for breakfast for he and Steve. 

Alone. 

While Steve showered, for God’s sake.

It was a good thing Sam had a minute to think before Barnes came back out of the bakery, and deployed Red Wing from his backpack as he slowly walked away. To the naked eye, he was just a random douchebag carrying a bag of food and texting while walking instead of watching where he was going. Not tracking aerial surveillance on the screen of a StarkPhone. Nope, not Sam.

Sam watched Red Wing’s feed as Barnes zig-zagged through the neighborhood before finally turning down a small cobbled street. And okay, so maybe Barnes wasn’t as aloof as he looked, because the route he took made no sense in relation to his destination - not unless he knew something was wrong and didn’t want to take a chance on being tailed. 

Which, Sam was totally doing. Thank God for advanced technology. 

Sam logged the address of the small house Barnes entered and turned the surveillance on infa-red. Barnes wasn’t alone. In fact, either the guy had gone and found himself a new tiny Steve or he was living with a woman. Fuck. The news he had for Steve just got extra complicated. Sam opened his backpack, secured his drone, picked up the food and ran the rest of the way back to their hostel. 

“Steve!” Sam called as he burst through the door.

Steve recognized the change in his friend’s tone and jumped up off the floor halfway through a pile, spreading out the most recent files on Barnes. “What is it?”

“Man, you’re not gonna fuckin’ believe this,” Sam huffed, taking out his phone and trying to catch his breath. 

He shoved the phone at Steve and watched as Steve’s eyes widened like saucers the same time his jaw dropped. Steve instantly recognized Bucky, even from the odd superior angle the drone surveillance cast, he’d know that walk anywhere. It was the same fucking murder-strut Bucky had since the war. It came from needing to be light on his feet and carrying a pack and guns. Later, it changed in response to the weight of the metal arm, but the core of it was the same. It was Bucky, there was no doubt in his mind.

“He’s here,” Steve said quietly, and Sam wasn’t so sure he meant for it to be out loud. 

“Yeah he’s here, but he ain’t alone, man.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, eyes still glued to the recorded feed.

Sam shifted on his feet. This was the hard part. 

“He’s living with someone, Steve. I don’t know who she is, but-”

“-She?” Steve cut Sam off.

Sam nodded, setting out the breakfast. “Think so. Look, if it ain’t a she, they’re pretty small, and I don’t think he’s being held against his will. He just unlocked the door and walked in, so that’s good, right? He’s autonomous.”

Yeah, it’s just great, Sam thought. He’d just broken the news to an excited golden retriever that the love of his life had moved on. But on the flip side, there was food. 

“Oh. Yeah, uh… yeah, that’s good,” Steve said, clearing his throat and forcing cheer into his voice, not doing a very good job overall. “He’s stopped running, then, I guess?”

Steve tossed the phone down on the bed as he rushed past Sam. The door opened, and just as easily it shut. Steve was gone.

**~*~**

Sam didn’t bother Steve; he didn’t try to follow him or anything. After everything they've been through over the past year, to find Bucky alive and healthy was great. To find him moving on and living with someone, however, well let’s just say neither of them had prepared for that outcome. Sam knew Steve needed space on that one, a few minutes to digest the information and clear his head enough to plan the next step.

Sam supposed they would be heading home sooner rather than later. He didn’t have much more time than that to think about it though, because no sooner did he sit to eat at the little table in the corner, his phone vibrated on the bed.

**Steve:** What is his address?

**Sam:** You sure you wanna do this alone? Come eat some food first, you need calories Steve.

**Steve:** His address Sam. Please. 

**Sam:** _Strada Consecvenței, 20, 20_

Sam sat back at the table and opened the food. Steve was gonna do what Steve was gonna do. There was no changing his mind when he got like that, but someone was going to need to have a clear head when Steve crashed. Because he would. Sam had a sneaking suspicion they were far from having bad days before things started looking up.


	13. A Direct Match

**A Direct Match**

Steve pulled the address up on his phone and mapped out the fastest route. He made his way over, and resolutely avoided thinking about the implications of Bucky living with another person. He knew Bucky needed to be safe, and if he was living with a woman, then hopefully he was making progress, making a life for himself. 

He would remember Steve, eventually, they’d come back to each other. They always did. Steve wasn’t ready to give up on him, not after searching the globe for the better part of a year, chasing Bucky’s ghost from continent to continent. Not once they’d finally found Bucky and he was healthy and free. 

Steve walked slowly, eyes searching every face, every building and street for anything that might indicate he was being followed. The last thing he wanted to do was expose Bucky, draw him out into the open only to ruin the anonymity he obviously worked so hard to build, so Steve practically jumped out of his skin as his phone went off in his back pocket. He pulled it out, preparing to bitch at Sam for not giving him his goddamn space, but saw instead it was Nat calling, so he sent the call to voicemail.   

They could talk later. 

He arrived outside the small brick home, looking closely at the address on the front of the bright blue door. A direct match. The place looked unassuming, cutesy and homey, and something twisted in the pit of Steve’s stomach. 

He kept walking, because he wasn’t ready to knock just yet. He’d been hoping and dreaming of this day for so long, he’d never actually thought about how to take the next step. What would he say? Hey, Buck, it’s me? The guy you pulled from the Potomac and disappeared on? The guy who’s loved you since before he knew what love was?

Sure, those were all options, but there was something else. A word that kept pushing to the front of his consciousness, demanding to be spoken. 

Why?

He wanted to know why Bucky pulled him from the river, just to turn his back and walk away. He had to remember who he was, who  _ they  _ were. He saw the recognition in Bucky’s eyes the moment he said those words. 

**To the end of the line.**

But it wasn’t the end of the line yet, not for a long fucking time. A posessive urge churned in Steve’s gut. He didn’t care who the woman was, Bucky was his. They promised each other that they’d always be together, that nothing and no one could come between them, and Steve wasn’t about to let that go.

But the time wasn’t right, Steve needed to prepare himself. Barging in unprepared was a stupid thing to do, and for all he knew, it would set Bucky into Hydra Asset mode. So, he would gather more intel, have Sam do a bit more surveillance on the property first and see if they could figure out who the woman was. 

Steve needed to eat, he was hungry, impulsive, and bordering on reckless. In the meantime, he needed to get the fuck out of that neighborhood fast before he did something to set them back all the way to the beginning. It wasn’t impossible - he was Steve Rogers, after all, and he’d been known to be a bit impulsive from time to time.

 

Romanian to English

_ omletă țărănească = _ Peasant Omelet, a traditional Romanian breakfast


	14. A Family Man

**A Family Man**

As Ihrin napped inside, Bucky headed out back to their small garden; the early afternoon sun was shining bright, warming the breeze blowing through the city. It was all so relaxing. Bucky laid his head back on the chaise and closed his eyes, his mind wandering peacefully.

Bucky still couldn't believe how his life had changed. He never thought he’d have a family, never thought he’d find a woman he wanted to spend more than a few dates with. In his youth, dates rarely went past dancing his ass off and maybe some handsy messing around, just enough to keep the spotlight off of him being hopelessly in love with Steve. 

And sure, he liked women just fine, so in keeping with his ladies man image, he’d been with a few women. There was Dot, a pretty redhead and the first girl he fucked - under the boardwalk one night at Coney Island, no less. Others, too, but he couldn’t remember their names. 

Hell, during the War, sometimes he didn’t even ask their names. There were plenty of local women in the towns they’d liberated, taking turns thanking the troops in the universal language of sex. But that all changed once Steve found him on Zola’s table.

Zola and the table. He shuddered.  

Finding comfort in the quiet was something that was only recently working its way into his life. All too often it wasn’t something he could grasp, because quiet thoughts always led him back to Steve, if he was lucky. Otherwise, his thoughts were much darker. 

Bucky hoped that wherever Steve was, he was happy. He’d be lying if he said there wasn’t part of him that missed Steve terribly, that there was a hole in his heart that would never be filled again without him. He remembered loving Steve, loving him more than he’d ever loved any other man, and the guilt and shame from what he’d done continually ate away at him. 

When the guilt and shame got too deep, when there was too much noise in his head, those were the times he’d asked Ihrin to hold him down while they were fucking. Before he asked the first time, he worried that urge was some of the conditioning from Hydra coming back, maybe some perversion he had, getting off on being restrained. Or maybe it was something his mind and body needed to reset, to help quiet the noise. 

But that wasn’t it at all and after Ihrin held him down that first time, he knew why. 

Though Ihrin was slight, the moment Bucky came underneath her, Ihrin holding his wrists firm, it was like a part of him was unearthed. Some deep, hidden piece of him pulled up into the light, air finally filling his lungs completely. He knew. Memories flooded back and he was sure that what he lost with Steve was so much more than a friendship.

It was possible those thoughts were fantasy. Some days it was hard to tell, but there was no denying the Pavlovian response he had toward bossy little blondes. It was still a lot to unpack, but Bucky needed to concentrate on the here and now. 

He’d already broken every promise he ever made to Steve, and would never be able to right those wrongs. But he’d been given a second chance with loving Ihrin, and the promise he made to her was something he needed to keep. He’d sooner take a bullet between the eyes, cut out his own heart before laying a harmful finger on her. If it ever came to that, if Hydra had him in their grasp again, he’d kill himself. 

But that plan had become more complicated. With a child of his own to think of, he wasn’t necessarily sure he would be able to protect everyone he needed to. If Hydra ever found out about the baby, they wouldn’t stop until they had her. She wouldn’t be an infant forever, and eventually she’d have to go out in the dangerous world. 

He never told Ihrin, but when he was held captive, they’d tried to clone him and make more super soldiers, he knew that for a fact. Well before he destroyed everything, he had seen what Hydra had - storehouses of his blood. He wouldn’t have believed it had he not seen the failed experiments with his own eyes. Horrific monsters were created, some had missing eyes, some extra appendages. There were evil, creature-like beings suspended in tanks. He’d burned them all and left none of the scientists alive. He made sure all of the research was destroyed, that the hard drives were wiped. Entire facilities were reduced to ashes. 

And Bucky couldn’t let them anywhere near the baby or Ihrin, but it was going to be next to impossible to protect them both on his own forever. Bucky sat up straight, a warning in his gut telling him something was off. He listened, and with his enhanced senses he could hear Ihrin’s soft breathing inside the house. She was still sleeping. There was movement out front, though, and it was something different from the usual foot traffic in the neighborhood. 

He rose silently and just to be sure, looked into the bedroom toward Ihrin. Her naked form was wrapped up in the sheets, still in the same place she ended up after he fucked her slow and gentle, both of them in love and celebrating the fact that they were going to have a family. Bucky heard the stirring out front again, and moved to the door silently. 

No. 

He had to be seeing things. A shiver ran up his spine and an old familiar panic settled into his chest. He looked back at Ihrin, then outside again. The second time he looked out the peephole, he saw the enormous frame of a blond man joining the profile of the same black man from that morning. The same one he dismissed the thought of, but now he knew better. The man had to be Sam Wilson.

Which meant the blond was Steve, not that Bucky wouldn’t recognize Steve Rogers standing at his front door, even if he had his back to him like he did. Bucky would know that frame anywhere, and as much as he still loved Steve, he instantly went into protective mode, pulling a knife from the waist of his jeans. Yes, it was Steve and Sam, so the chances of them trying to hurt him were slim to none, but he had a family to think of. It wasn’t just about him anymore. 

At the crux of Bucky’s anxiety was one question - how the fuck had they found him? He was in a Hydra-free country, living with a civilian woman in her home. He’d gotten rid of the shitty apartment he originally had under an alias; his name wasn’t on anything. Bucky hadn’t even had to kill anyone in almost a year. He’d been so careful, there was nothing he had done to bring them any kind of attention.

Bucky watched through the peephole as Steve stood with his back to the door, hands in his pockets and his head down. He looked a little on edge and a lot defeated, but thankfully Wilson was there to ground him. He knew that if Steve had been on his own and had found Bucky, he’d probably have done something stupid like barge right in. Steve could be a bit impulsive, especially when it came to someone he cared about. 

Did that mean Steve still care about him?

Still, Bucky’s first reaction was to protect his family, even though he also had the same natural, long-ingrained urge to go to Steve. He wasn’t surprised to realize he wasn’t above falling to his knees and begging forgiveness for everything he’d done to hurt Steve as the Asset. 

God, he still loved him, apparently that would never go away. Bucky’s heart pounded in his chest and there was a tightness in his throat as tears began to burn behind his eyes. He slipped the knife back in its place in his waistband and went to Ihrin.

“Honey,” he whispered, dropping a soft kiss into her hair, as she stirred. “I’m going out for a bit. You rest, okay?”

Ihrin turned her face and nuzzled into the pillow. “Mhmm.”

Body thrumming with nervous energy, Bucky turned back to the front door. It was time to face the music, but he couldn’t do it in the house, not with Ihrin sleeping in the next room. He looked out one last time before opening the door, and when he did, what he saw took him by surprise. 

Again. 

Considering the day he was having, that was saying something.

“Steve?” Bucky called quietly as he rushed out the door. 

Steve and Sam both stopped as they were walking away, making Bucky’s heart jump into his throat. He stood frozen, as Steve turned, and those bright blue eyes met his own for the first time in what felt like forever. 

“Buck?” Steve breathed, a hopeful smile spreading across his lips. 

Bucky ducked his head at the nickname, a bashful reaction that came as natural as breathing.

Steve pushed excitedly past Sam and wrapped his arms around Bucky, pulling him into a crushing hug, Steve’s strong arms wrapped firmly around Bucky’s torso, lifting Bucky up on his tiptoes. It took Bucky off guard how quickly he melted into Steve’s embrace, warmth and peace immediately engulfing Bucky; the sudden absence of every fear he had of Steve hating him, of never being able to touch Steve again gone in an instant. 

The only thing Bucky felt was a heartbreaking sense of gratitude, the depth of which was overwhelming. He buried his face in Steve’s neck, the skin there soft and warm. He smelled like Steve and, well, Steve would always smell like home. Bucky didn’t even realize he was crying until he heard Steve whispering to him soft and low.

“Buck,” Steve murmured low in Bucky’s ear. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I gotcha, I’m here. It’s gonna be alright now, yeah?” he continued, his hand petting down the length of Bucky’s hair. 

Bucky opened his eyes, suddenly aware of his immediate reaction to seeing Steve. What the fuck was he doing? Ihrin was just inside the house, sleeping, pregnant with his child. He pulled away quickly, roughly swiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. 

“Steve - I,” he began.

“It’s okay, Buck,” Steve grinned bright, his eyes full of happiness. He motioned to Sam, “This is my friend Sam, he’s been helpin’ me find you since D.C. It’s all gonna be alright now.” 

Bucky shook his head, his brain doing it’s damndest to process everything that was happening. He reached back for the front door, closing it the rest of the way. In his haste he hadn't even checked to make sure the lock was set, and the realization served to cement the worry he had in his inadequacies. 

He needed help, and Steve was here.

But how could he ask the man he promised to love forever, **to the end of the line** , to help him keep his child safe? A child he was expecting with a woman who knew nothing about that part of his past, of the depth of the relationship he once had with Steve.

“I need your help,” Bucky blurted, his eyes meeting Steve’s again in a desperate plea.

Steve nodded, the anxious set to his shoulders lessening, melting into the confidence he’d always had. He walked the couple of steps back to where Bucky stood and reached out to take Bucky’s cheek in his palm, his other hand resting on Bucky’s hip, the gesture both soothing and grounding for Bucky.

“Anything. You just say the word, Buck,” Steve answered with a quiet ferocity. 

A soft grin returned to his lips as he looked Bucky’s face over, gaze settling on his mouth. Only microseconds later, Steve seemed to realize how forward his body language was, and that they were outside in public view before he pulled the familiar level of their physical contact back to the realm of platonic. 

“It’s - uh, it’s a little complicated,” Bucky mumbled, running his hand through his hair, eyes darting back to the house. “I’m not alone.”

Steve smirked, the cocky little shit he’d always been surfacing again and pulling all kinds of emotions from Bucky’s heart, warmth blooming in his chest. Bucky remembered that look, the way Steve would pin him back up against the wall in their tiny apartment when Bucky came home smelling of dance halls and perfume, all in efforts to keep nosy neighbors off of his and Steve’s case.

But behind closed doors, Steve would whisper low, his hand rising to Bucky’s collar where he sometimes had remnants of lipstick from necking with girls. He’d take his hands, ridiculously strong and sure for such a little guy like Steve was back then, and run them down Bucky’s body, removing his clothes one piece at a time. And Bucky, he would be so good for Steve, always needed that contact after having to go out on the town. 

Going out with dames wasn’t anything Bucky had done behind Steve’s back; Steve knew but Bucky still needed that physical forgiveness, the reminder that what he did was okay, that there was a reason for it. 

There wasn’t a reason for him to have done this behind Steve’s back, though. No reason other than the fact that Bucky stupidly thought he’d never see Steve again, and he was trying to make a life without him. God, that wasn’t fair to Ihrin. 

“I know, Buck. Got yourself a girl, huh?” Steve said low. 

Bucky’s eyes darted over to where Wilson was doing his damndest, decidedly not listening to what Steve was saying, the way he spoke to Bucky, the way Bucky practically melted into a puddle at the simplest touch. Bucky needed to get his shit together, clear his head. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes then breathing out through his nose. He opened his eyes and hoped to God his expression matched his efforts to think straight. 

“She’s not just a girl, Steve. We’re - it’s more complicated,” Bucky stammered. He shifted on his feet, eyes darting to Wilson again, then back to Steve. “Can we take a walk?”

Steve backed up a step, his brow furrowed in concern. Something was wrong. He looked to Sam also, then back to Bucky. 

“Yeah, ‘course. Sam, would you mind hanging out here, if that’s okay with Buck?” Steve shot Sam a quirked brow, then nodded his chin toward the road.

Bucky nodded, “Thank you. Ihrin - she’s sleeping, but-”

“It’s alright, man. I’ll just stay close by. You two work it out,” Sam said. Steve clasped Sam on the shoulder and turned, signaling for Bucky to take the lead. 

**~*~**

Bucky shoved his hands into his pockets, ducking his head the tiniest bit like he’d always done next to Steve. It used to be because Steve was smaller, but the habit never quite left once Steve had the serum. It just felt good to Bucky sometimes to be able to physically show him deference. 

Some things would never change. 

“So this one’s not so easy to just leave behind, huh?” Steve said. 

It wasn’t a question, and Bucky nodded, rather than try to explain. He wanted to see what it was Steve wanted, to find out how he’d come to find Bucky in the small European country in which tried to disappear.

“How did you find me?”

Steve huffed a soft laugh. “Nat.”

Nat? Oh, the redhead. He knew her, and after she dumped all the files exposing Hydra onto the web, he knew why. 

“How is Natalia?” Bucky asked, his Russian accent perfect in pronouncing her given name. To Bucky, she’d always be Natalia Alianova Romanova, the little spiderling, deadly as she was beautiful.

“She’s good. You know, she was a little put off you didn’t recognize her back in D.C.”

The mention of their last encounter in Washington D.C. caused anxiety to twist in Bucky’s gut. He stopped walking, and like clockwork, or maybe an invisible tether from one heart to the next, Steve stopped as well, turning back to him.  

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said around the lump in his throat. Words would never be enough to express his remorse for how he’d hurt Steve. “I’m so goddamn sorry, Stevie. I-”

Bucky practically attacked Steve again, crashing against him in for a fierce hug, and Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky, pulling him in that much closer, speaking against the skin of Bucky’s neck. “Buck, sweetheart, it wasn’t you. All those things they made you do, you didn't have a choice.”

“I know,” Bucky shuddered, “but I did it.”

Steve pulled back, holding Bucky’s jaw in his big warm palms. His grip was sturdy enough to keep Bucky focused, yet gentle at the same time. For a moment, time seemed to stop, and all Bucky could think was home. Steve was his home. He loved Ihrin, yes, and they were expecting a baby, but nothing and no one would ever be able to take the place of Steve. The way he could take Bucky from being that guy - the one in charge, always performing, putting on the confident bravado - and bring him back to himself. 

With Steve, Bucky could just be Bucky. That comfort was something he hadn’t been able to feel in over seventy years, and he needed it, which was why without thinking any further, Bucky leaned in and kissed Steve, hoping against hope that Steve would accept him, that Steve would remember how very much Bucky needed this, had always needed Steve.

He remembered. Steve’s big hands slid through Bucky’s long hair, tangling in the strands and holding him there. Steve took everything that Bucky needed so desperately to give. And Bucky wasn’t sure who moved first or how they got there, but when he pulled back to catch his breath, he was pushed back up against a brick wall in an alley just off the road. His lips stung in the best way possible from Steve’s bite, the lust-filled tug of his teeth catching Bucky’s mouth. 

“Fuck, baby. I missed you so much, Buck,” Steve growled low in his throat. 

Steve leaned forward, pressing Bucky back against the wall, caging him in with his large frame. The way his outside matched the inside, the size and strength of what had always made him Steve - it took Bucky back to the way he felt when Steve first found him, strapped to a metal table and halfway to death. 

Steve had found him then, against all odds and in the middle of a global scale war. How silly had Bucky been to think that Steve wouldn’t move heaven and earth to find him again? That he could ever actually hide from Steve? 

Bucky’s breath hitched as Steve pinned him in closer, his hips pushing back and catching him with nowhere else to go. Steve was hard, and the way he ground his hips against Bucky’s, the friction and desire to submit to Steve it gave him was… God he wanted him. Bucky needed the sense of safety and belonging that being with Steve always brought him.  

Steve smirked and the next thing Bucky knew, hefted him up so their cocks could grind together even better. Steve reached up, sucking possessively into the column of Bucky’s throat. One arm wrapped around the small of Bucky’s back, and the other held his thigh up. That hand roamed up toward Bucky’s shirt and Steve explored under it, giving the stiff peak of Bucky’s nipple an experimental tease with the pad of his thumb. 

“Ah,” Bucky breathed, arching into the touch even as he could feel the precome leaking from the tip of his dick. 

Steve took the opportunity to run his teeth across the sensitive skin just under the angle of Bucky’s jaw. That little patch of skin had always belonged to Steve, it was just the right height for him to nip against when he was small. Bucky begged Steve’s name and bent down to capture his lips, kissing back and playfully battling for dominance of the kiss. 

Steve seemed to take that as a challenge, because as a response he kissed Bucky stupid. By the time they separated again, Bucky was reeling, breath coming in soft pants against Steve’s lips. All of his blood and oxygen seemed to have rushed south. It was a heady feeling, to be back in his arms after so long, and if Bucky had any doubts of being accepted back into Steve’s life, they were obliterated by the way Steve dominated him so easily as though nothing had changed. 

“Buck, come home with me, baby. You belong with me.”

That’s when Bucky’s brain helpfully supplied him with the information that  _ everything  _ had changed. “No - wait, Steve.”

Bucky wriggled out of Steve’s embrace, finding his footing back on the ground as he pulled his shirt back down from where Steve had it rucked up. He gently pushed against Steve’s chest, giving himself a little more room to breathe, to try and get his head on straight. Jesus, he’d fallen back into Steve’s arms so easily.   

Steve stepped back, easily respecting the boundaries Bucky set, and as he did, a possessive jealousy churned in his gut. Bucky was different, now. There was something about him, maybe it was the girl… so he swallowed his pride even as he forced an easy expression onto his mug. He’d be whatever Bucky needed now. Then maybe - maybe Bucky would remember who they once were, how right they were for each other. 

 


	15. They're Yours, Buck

**They’re Yours, Buck**

Bucky swallowed his pride, forcing every piece of want from his mind. He needed Steve. God, he needed him on so many levels, but right now there was something more important. “I gotta move. Steve, if you were able to find me, then Hydra can, too.”

“Just, come home with me, Buck,” Steve said, putting his hand reassuringly on Bucky’s shoulder. “I know you’re still fighting all the stuff in your head. You need to heal, and I can protect you. Got a nice little place in Brooklyn and everything.”

“Come home? Steve, I - as much as I want to, I can’t just drop everything and leave. It ain’t the thirties anymore, pal.”

Ouch.

Steve stood still and really studied Bucky. There was obviously so much more he wasn’t telling him, and perhaps he didn’t trust him yet. But it was okay, it had to be. Steve could be whatever Bucky needed. Anything, so long as it brought Bucky home to him.

“Tell me what you need, Buck. I’m gonna do whatever I can to help you. I promise.”

Bucky sighed imperceptibly. Anxiety twisted in his gut and there was a lump in his throat. It was almost too much for him, everything changing all in the span of one day. But he had Ihrin, they were going to be a family, and he loved her.

The problem was, he loved Steve, too. He never stopped loving Steve. The moment he got that memory back, he shoved it down deep, somewhere for it to be protected, treasured but...hidden. From who or what, he still wasn’t sure. He needed to tell Steve about Ihrin and the baby; to just get it all out in the open. That way, if Steve was going to leave it could be over with. But he didn’t actually believe Steve would do that. Yes, there was a time they were lovers, but before that they’d been best friends, inseparable regardless of everything this shit world had thrown at them.

Bucky took a breath again, the set of his jaw braver than he felt inside. “Ihrin is pregnant, Steve. I’m gonna be a father.”

There. He’d said it. He told Steve.

And Steve… was still standing there. His eyes widened and there was a flash of something that looked like heartbreak across his features, but as soon as it materialized, it was gone. Steve cleared his throat, looked like he was going to say something, but looked down again.

“I,” he swallowed hard. “That’s uh, that’s great, Buck,” he answered quietly, those bright blue eyes shining with tears. Steve sighed deeply and forced a big smile, pulling Bucky into an embrace, murmuring against Bucky’s shoulder. “Congratulations, Buck. That’s real, uh, you - you’ll be a great dad.”

Steve’s embrace was tight, squeezing Bucky like he was holding on for dear life. Bucky wrapped his arms back around Steve, too, and felt the tiniest bit of relief. Maybe Steve would stick around, or at least help him keep Ihrin and the baby safe.

They separated and Bucky looked Steve dead in the eye, courage building from the way he could see Steve was trying. “That’s why I need your help. I don’t know if I’ll be able to protect them by myself. You know if Hydra finds out about the baby, they won’t stop until they get her. I can’t let that happen.”

“Her?” Steve asked.

And, sure, that was what he got out of the conversation, but whatever. It was progress, and Bucky supposed the two of them had a long road back to any kind of friendship.

“Yeah, it’s a girl. I just found out today. I mean, we weren’t expecting it. She wasn’t even supposed to be able to get pregnant, but… here we are, huh?”

A rush of fear forced its way into Bucky’s chest. Steve could tell he was struggling, so he reached out, cuffing him on the shoulder and shaking him back into himself. “I’m here for ya, Buck. Anything you need. You _and_ your family. All a’you, yeah?”

“Are you sure Steve?”

Steve steeled himself. Things had changed, but they’d figure it out. Bucky was worth that and so much more. “I’m positive. They’re yours, Buck. That means their safety is just as important to me as yours is.”

Bucky let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and visibly deflated, the anxiety finally lessening. “I want you to meet her.”

 

 

Buxky didn’t give Ihrin too much backstory, just let her know that Steve and Sam had been looking for him, and that they were there to help. It was a delicate conversation, considering, but Ihrin understood why Bucky was so nervous about her pregnancy.

“We just can’t use your names for anything, not until you’re back in New York and secure,” Steve told Ihrin.

She seemed to be taking it well, after all, she didn’t have much to go by, but there was still something there, she could tell. Bucky knew the questions would come out later in private, so he thanked Steve and Sam as they rose to leave, Ihrin extending a friendly welcome to their home anytime as they continued planning their move.

When the door closed, and it was just the two of them, Ihrin turned to Bucky. “What are you not telling me?” she asked without ceremony.

Bucky held onto Ihrin’s hand, guiding her to sit on the sofa. It seemed he did all of his best apologizing there, and this would be no different. He knew he had to tell Ihrin more, that he should probably lay it all down, full disclosure. After all, there was so much going on that day. He almost wanted to get it all out in the open. That way she could ask all the questions she wanted, could make an educated, informed choice on whether they went to New York or not.

“Steve and me, there’s a lotta history there,” Bucky began and Ihrin snorted.

“I can tell. I get it, your life with him was a long time ago. I just wish you would tell me why you have such a hard time talking about it.” Ihrin snuggled up against Bucky’s side, continuing, “There’s obviously a lot of history.”

“Obviously? What do you mean?”

Ihrin looked up and met Bucky’s eyes. Never one to mince words, she spoke directly. “He looks at you like he’s just found a long lost love. Not a best friend.”

Bucky felt the heat rise to his cheeks right about the same time he found it impossible to meet Ihrin’s eyes. But really, in for a penny, in for a pound. Ihrin was obviously giving him an opening and he’d be a fool to not take it.

“That’s because we are.”

“Best friends?” she asked calmly.

“Lovers. Or, we were... me and Steve,” Bucky continued, his eyes trained on his hands as they rested in his lap.

There was a moment of silence that seemed to stretch on forever, and Bucky’s heart pounded in his throat. It wasn’t illegal anymore, but that didn’t mean that society accepted people like him just anywhere, without judgement. And Ihrin, for him to have hidden something that big from her for so long… his entire identity.

Because this was different. She figured out that he was the Asset and she accepted him, loved him for everything she thought he was, and didn’t blame him for anything he did while under Hydra’s control. But this was all on him, and he had no idea what she would think.

The silence seemed to speak volumes. Any minute now, Ihrin would leave. He just knew it.

Soft, small hands came over into his lap, covering his own and stopping them from the nervous fidgeting he’d reduced himself to. “Bucky, look at me.”

When he did, he couldn’t believe his eyes. He was met with the same loving, open acceptance she’d always given him.

“You’re not mad?”

Ihrin furrowed her brow. “Why would I be mad at you? So you loved someone else before me. Maybe there’s a part of you that still loves him, I think you always will.”

Bucky cleared his throat nervously. “I mean, I’ll be honest, I never stopped loving him. He was my best friend, has been since we were shit-nothin’ kids back in 1924 Brooklyn.”

Ihrin sighed, but not despondently. “I’m not going to ask you to choose between us, Bucky. I love you, and I want to see you happy. I want you to forgive yourself of whatever it is that makes you cry out his name in your sleep.” Ihrin pressed a soft kiss to Bucky’s lips. “I think having time with him will help you find that balance, and I’ll be here when you’re ready to talk about it.”

This was about as far from how Ihrin ever pictured her life turning out, but then again, she didn’t exactly like to go by the book. She was having a super-serumed baby that needed to be protected from evil forces in the world. Really, why not just up the ante by adding a little more unconventionality to the mix?

It didn’t change the fact that Bucky was a good man. Steve finding them was odd, unnerving even, but none of that was because of his past with Bucky. And maybe it was odd to think so, but Ihrin had a very good feeling about Bucky being found by Steve. He was clearly still hurting and needed to heal.

So yes, they would move to New York. And they would also work out the new dynamic in their lives. Because that’s what was best, for them all, and for the baby. It wouldn't be easy, there would be growing pains, new dynamics, but she hoped in the end, it would be the right choice. There was only one way to really know.

Something Ihrin believed down to her bones, was that sometimes you had to dive in with both feet. Sure, it was safe where you could touch bottom, but to really live, to be free and full and alive - well, the only place to do that was far from the shallow.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, kudos and comments are always appreciated. 
> 
> I'm on fandom Twitter @Caleprwrite where I mostly thirst after all things Steve and Bucky, and occasionally bitch about Donald Trump and the patriarchy. Come have fun with me and the rest of Cap Fandom!


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